Epinephrine
by SamanthaTL
Summary: Modern-day AU. When Peeta is spared his life and hired by Cato as a gunman, he is forced to leave everything behind; his family, girlfriend, and a blooming career, and ultimately move south. Three years harden him as he finds himself a changed man, and in an escalating tangle of mess he suddenly wants to disaffiliate himself from.
1. Chapter 1: Blood Red

**A/N: On my third fic I'd like to veer away from my usual THG-driven storyline and sappy stuff and turn Modern-Day AU. Adult situations; this has bad all over it: bad violence, bad language, bad alcohol, bad romance (hehe jokes), sexytimes, and rock & roll. Everlark-centric; fluff will be incorporated. ****Rated M, so no little ones! I'd like to summon Gale, Cato, Johanna and the rest of the gang into the party.**

**The Hunger Games are not mine, they're Suzanne's. **

**Say "epinephrine" ten times fast.**

* * *

Another meeting with the boss adjourned. Another task assigned to accomplish. He tries to convince himself that it's not that bad. It's definitely something to fill up his afternoon. He begins to wonder, in between thoughts of grabbing a quick bite to eat for lunch and nagging threats that his life may be ending in a flash at any minute, if he is the favourite. Or if there is another one just like him out there in the field. He carelessly lugs a heavy briefcase in his hand and blends in with the crowd milling on the sidewalks of downtown Corpus Christi.

Peeta recalls Cato's cold hand insistent of a courtesy shake earlier that day before the tapping of his shoes echoed throughout the musty, abandoned warehouse that Cato likes to call his 'office'. It was rough when Peeta first acquired the job. He found himself trapped in a sketchy area of Lexington, Kentucky, being robbed in a garbage-filled alleyway at gun point. The robber's blood-shot eyes could barely keep open as he staggered through his steps, hands wavering as he approached Peeta with a pointed gun. Peeta had his arms up in mid air, eyes darting sideways to see if he could use something to knock the guy out with, and even attempted talking some sense into the robber.

"No! Give me your phone...and your wallet. Cash! Give me cash now!" the robber gestured at the white wire sticking out from his jacket, connecting up to one of his ears. Peeta realized he hadn't blinked since the robber pulled out a gun as he took a step backward, his leg slightly bumping against a box on the ground behind him. The robber closed in on Peeta and started to reach for whatever he could dig out from his pocket, and without thinking twice, Peeta picked up an old baseball bat sticking out of the box and clumsily bashed half the robber's head in. Peeta jumped after the gun as it flew off the man's grasp, astonished that the robber was still standing on his feet, staring him in the eye and giving him a smirk. Peeta picked up the gun on the ground and leaped towards a hanging retractable set of stairs by a huge garbage bin, the robber now furious and gaining in on him. As he felt the robber's hand almost clawing at his collar trying to drag him down, he turned around and extended his arm that was holding the gun. He ultimately pulled the trigger and shot the robber in the middle of the forehead while he was still perched and swaying on the third step of the stairs. A man suddenly appeared from a corner, looking impressed, smiling while shaking his head slightly.

"Hey man, nice shot," he said as he approached Peeta. "But you've opened yourself a can of worms there, prettyboy." Peeta was still clutching on to the hanging stair steps, dropping the gun in disgust, breaths heavy and sweating profusely. He finally let loose and landed on his feet, darting looks between the tall, blonde man walking towards him and the gun below him, emitting steam.

"I personally know the head of the mob this man worked for, so here's what I'm going to do..." the man stopped until the tip of his freshly-polished shoe touched the dead robber's outstretched arm on the ground. "I will ask for a pardon on your behalf, and in turn you have to work for me. You will be immuned. Protected."

Peeta stood frozen, caught up in harrowing thoughts of survival and the rest of his life in general; _if_ he managed to get out of the backstreet alive. His heart was beating in his ear. He was displeased at the condition laid out in front of him, but felt he was running out of options, as if he had much to begin with. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it over to Peeta, gesturing that his he should wipe his face clean. He had small splatters of blood on his face.

"I hope you like Texas."

And that's how Peeta Mellark met Cato Thorpe.

The infant stage of their working relationship was unstable at best, due to constant clashing of two strong personalities. Sometimes their conversations would end with beat downs on each other rather than conclusions, a result of two stubborn heads colliding. Peeta tends to disobey instructions and goes on instinct, it hooks him into trouble and it sends Cato in a state. But after a day's work, Peeta finishes the task efficiently. In time, through high hell and tribulations they have gained respect for each other. Cato has invited him over a couple of times to his mansion for dinner as they discussed details of a major assignment. And Cato is not the type to just invite anybody over to have a meal with him, especially if he cooked it himself. They went on plenty of unsuccessful fishing trips together, and sipped expensive wine on foldable chairs by the pier. Peeta's cut on the operations is way more generous than he'd normally expect. Cato is his boss, and somewhere along the way he has become his friend.

Peeta shakes out of his reverie and turns on a corner, kicking through a rusty door of a dilapidated building. He whistles as he rolls up the stairs, the sound of his footsteps reverberating off the tight walls. He reaches the top floor and opens another set of stairs and a door that leads to the rooftop.

"Hello, Texas," he says out loud, mostly to himself as he stretches before he opens the suitcase he placed on the floor.

While setting up equipment, he begins to hear static in his left ear. His hand flies up and adjusts the setting of the earpiece while the other tries to click hardware pieces together. His sequences are fluid, almost like second skin to him. The static continues, and then the sound clears out into a low steady hum.

"Hello, sweet pea," a voice buzzes through the miniscule ear device. Peeta snorts, securing the tiny microphone clipped to his breast pocket. He leans his mouth into it.

"Shove it, Gale."

Gale chuckles like a drunk on the other line as he waits for Peeta to settle down. "Any interesting sights up there? Do share. And be descriptive. I'm dying here."

"Bro, I'm five floors off the ground. I can't look down into women's necklines from here," Peeta rests his rifle on a stand, and as a final touch, attaches his brand new gun scope on the top. "What am I, Cyclops?"

"Bro, Cyclops shoots lasers from his shades."

"Yeah that one," Peeta pauses to grab a cigarette stick from his pocket and sticks it in his mouth before he lights it. "Besides, you're the one with all the high-tech visuals, nerd," he mumbles as he tries to balance the stick between his lips.

Gale has a wide smirk as he shifts around in the back of a tinted van, about four streets away and parallel to the building Peeta is currently located in. He is surrounded by boxes of machines mounted on top of each other, knobs and buttons randomly blinking in yellow and green. There is a laptop on the seat beside him, showing a live video feed of Peeta on the rooftop, kneeling on the ground, poised over the rifle.

"Nice buns," Gale comments as he zooms in and out of the screen.

Peeta is growing impatient as he waits for instructions. "Gale, I swear to-"

Gale's tone is suddenly serious as he clears his throat, the tone he usually reserves for when he has officially clocked in to work. He begins to type on the keyboard, the mere motions of his finger on the touchpad directing the motions of a camera that is pointed on a street corner somewhere below Peeta.

"We got your guy. On his way out of Hall Avenue," Gale says into the microphone. Peeta is along McBride Lane, adjacent to Hall. He puts an eye behind the gun scope, and slowly moves the rifle around when he realizes he can't spot his target. There are too many people walking around, which makes the operation more exhilirating for him. He takes a long hit of his cigarette and blows smoke right into the scope.

"Give me stats," Peeta says.

"Blue hat under black hooded sweater. Very tall," Gale describes away as he has an opened folder on his lap, full of papers and black and white photos of the target. He is switching his focus back and forth between the screen and the papers and confirms.

Peeta lets out another round of smoke through his mouth, and right in the middle of the red crosshair on the screen of his scope, closes in on the target. The man is walking in quick strides, both hands shoved into his pockets. He suddenly stops, as if alerted, his head swinging upwards and side to side.

"I'm taking out the garbage," Peeta locks the crosshair in the middle of the man's chest, holds his breath as he winces into the scope, and pulls the trigger. It takes a couple of seconds before he moves away from the rifle and lifts up the cigarette to his mouth again, blowing big puffs of smoke that clouds over his own head as he starts to dismantle his weapon.

* * *

Katniss is still in her black blazer and black pencil skirt, the heels of her black pumps clicking against the parking lot of her mother's apartment, followed by a pair of two smaller feet struggling to keep pace with her.

Trying to blend in quicker and growing more familiar in a new city, she is relieved she was able to find a decent job right away, in the financial district of downtown area. She fancied a small, white bungalow in the suburbs with white picket fence and two-car garage, and relentlessly pursued after it. It is her first residential property, and ended up spending more money than she had originally planned on its aesthetics and most appliances. It is located in a quiet neighbourhood with mostly seniors and big families, two huge parks beside the grade school, a daycare across the street from the school, and an abundance of grocery stores a short car drive away.

She almost kicks the door down when she opens it, one of her hands occupied with keeping a tight grip on her daughter's and the other holding a small pink duffel bag.

"Mom! We're here," she yells into the living room.

Mrs. Everdeen is sitting on the couch watching TV, her hands fiddling with her hair trying to tie it into a bun. She works dayshift in one of the local hospitals as a registered nurse, and has no plans of retiring anytime soon. "You know, there's nothing wrong with knocking on the door," she stands up and approaches them, bending over with wide open arms as the little girl in pig tails hops her way towards her grandmother. She greets her and kisses her cheek, her smile almost exactly duplicating Katniss'.

"Little Willow here has a little present for you," Katniss says as she leaves her shoes dumped carelessly by the door. She ventures to the kitchen with the duffel bag and places it on the island counter, pulling out grocery bags. "She made it in the daycare today. Do you want to show it to Grandma, sweetheart?"

"Yeah!" she exclaims happily as Mrs. Everdeen lets her loose, and goes on to picking up her small bag and almost ducking her head in trying to look for her work of art. It's a cardboard cutout of a teddy bear with a green ribbon that is almost as big as its head. She proudly hands it over to her grandma, looking up at her, face expectant of hearing a compliment.

Mrs. Everdeen gasps loudly and leans down to kiss the top of her head. "Thank you! It's really pretty! This is going on the refrigerator!"

Willow's eyes are almost sparkling, and her full smile has returned. The refrigerator is like a wall of fame to her. She asks if she could already put the teddy bear cutout on the refrigerator herself and bounces off and away as soon as grandma nods in agreement. Katniss and her mother joyfully watch after her, their smiles disappearing as Willow retreats into the corner that leads to the kitchen.

Mrs. Everdeen turns to look at Katniss. "Did the bastard pay in full this month?"

Katniss rolls her eyes as she heads for the couch, blowing out exasperated air as she pulls off the bobby pins in her hair one by one.

"He paid just half. Better than nothing, which was the case in the past four straight months."

Mrs. Everdeen's face sours in revolt. "You should take legal action against him. Take him to the cleaners for all I care!" She begins to pace around the sofa table, hands suddenly needing to be occupied as she controls her growing anger. "He obviously doesn't know the difficulties of being a single mother."

"Mom."

"Did you know your uncle saw him with another one of his whores, driving around in a Porsche?! To the grocery store!" She finally settles on the vase full of an assortment of flowers in the middle of the table and rearranges them in no specific fashion.

"It's a Boxster. It doesn't count," Katniss says flatly. She gathers the pins and puts them in her blazer jacket pocket.

Willow suddenly pops back out into the living room, almost screeching in excitement. "Horsey! Horsey! Neigh neigh!"

Katniss shoots her mother a look before she picks up the tumbling three year old off the floor and dusts some cookie crumbs off her lips. "Yes sweetheart. Horseys go neigh neigh."

* * *

The air smells like bad weed and the red lights flashing all around him are starting to make him dizzy, piercing shade of red that make his royal mess of blonde hair appear bleached. He ignores the impending throbbing of nerves on his temple and inhales his jagermeister as one of his friends holler for a cheer. He perches his elbows on the round table so he can bury his head in his hands. The loud music is making his thoughts spin, and he swears he could almost melt and blend into the beats, mould into the heavy bass lines as he winces through the smoke and all the red bulbs. In front of him is a stage bordered with tiny blinking lights. Long, feminine legs stalking the platform back and forth. And stiletto heels. Some are red, and some are black.

He closes his eyes as he scratches at his stubbles currently neglected, now crawling along the strong angles of his jaws. Hands appear in front of him presenting more alcohol, and plenty of words of encouragement from his friends. Someone ruffles his hair with such force that his head lunges forward and almost smacks against the table. He could feel someone place two hands on both his shoulders as he is suddenly pulled back upright.

"Peeta, pull your shit together man, and have fun," Cinna breathes alcohol right into his ear from behind. "Pure, unadulterated fun." He gestures towards the scantily dressed woman gyrating on the stage. He lets go of his shoulders and reclaims his seat beside Peeta, glancing at him. "You look like you're grieving."

"He should be, if you ask me," Haymitch pipes in from across the table, a pile of empty shot glasses accumulating in front of him. "Oh it's over," he overemphasizes each word in misery, then switches his focus of interest on a blonde stripper on the stage.

"Boys, calm your panties down, I have a headache," Peeta says as he pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. His hand comes up to refuse another shot of tequila being shoved in front of him. "I'm done!"

"No...this is Peeta's...," Marvel cuts in and pauses to let out a high-pitched hiccup. "Peeta's last night of freedom, man. This is it. Mellark is...!" Another hiccup. "Mellark is finally gonna get freakin' hitched!" he blurts and hoots, swinging his mug of beer towards Peeta and spilling some of it on his face too. Marvel is not officially drunk until he hiccups.

"Are you, Peeta Mellark, prepared to be stuck with only one woman for the rest of your life?" Haymitch mumbles, imitating a priest, eyes still glued to the dancing bodies on the platform.

"I plan to get married when I'm twenty-six as well. Kids by twenty-eight. Won't wait that long," Marvel takes a swig of his freshly restocked beer. "I would you know, like to be able to still play ball with the little ones, be able to run after them and stuff." He drops his mug on the table with fury and flashes everyone a smile.

"Dude you sound like a chick," Cinna glares at him with an amused look.

"Let me guess, you proposed to her on a gondola during a tender moment in the middle of the Venetian lagoons?" Haymitch asks Peeta.

"Actually, no, we were in Paris on the Eiffel Tower," Peeta responds seriously, studying the rim of his glass. He turns up to look straight at Haymitch. "It was raining in drizzles. She loves Paris."

The group suddenly bursts out in half mockery and half approval. "You're a sucker!"

"Well that's what she's always wanted to do! I was about to kneel down on the floor in The Keg!" Peeta tries to talk over the hollering. His friends continue to laugh and offer him more drinks.

As soon as a new set of music starts to play, a new group of strippers take their turn. Cinna stands up again and grabs Peeta's arm and drags him off his chair, leading him to the stage. Peeta stumbles and knocks into Cinna as he tries to grab chairs along the way for support, not hiding the trouble he is having with balance. They stop right below the stage and Cinna folds a fifty dollar bill and jams it into Peeta's hand. They eye a leggy stripper wearing fuchsia tie-front one piece outfit, all her hair tucked underneath an oversized cowboy hat, with her back turned to the stage as she works the pole in front of her.

Cinna grins at Peeta and slaps his back. "You know what they say about saving horses!"

Peeta looks up at the stripper, mainly the curves of her ass and hips swerving side to side, his head unsteady from alcohol consumption. He is immobile, and looks mesmerized, as the stripper rubs herself up and down the pole, working the muscles of her back. He could hear Marvel making an embarrassing variety of noises in the back.

"Well, come on! I gave you the power of Ulysses Grant, buddy," Cinna goads him on. Peeta takes another swipe at his stubbles as he takes a step forward closer to the stage.

He starts to breathe heavily, the sounds beating into his head as he shakes it back and forth. He has had more than enough mix of different alcohol he could handle, and now he couldn't even keep the lids from dropping over his eyes. His hand curls into a fist as it comes up to cover his mouth when he clears his throat.

The stripper still has not turned around and keeps one hand on the pole and the other pulling down the cowboy hat over her eyes, lowering herself and squatting on the stage. She sticks her ass out even more in Peeta's face, and he is entranced by the amount of skin ready for him to be touched, dangerously close to his reach. He scrunches the fifty dollar bill in his grasp and starts to reach out towards the fluid bodily movements in front of him, aiming for the spot on the round of her hip. The stripper's back arches majestically as she remains squatting down, one hand still on the pole, her head tilting up and backwards to look at Peeta until her cowboy hat falls off and long, wavy hair pour down her back and almost grazes the floor. Peeta blinks as she locks her gaze on him, both exchanging a short flicker of recognition, the cowboy hat now forgotten. His eyebrows furrow as he recalls those eyes. Those lips. His breath hitches in his throat. "Katniss?"

She intakes a sharp fill of air as her hand loses its grip around the dancing pole and falls completely and gracelessly in reverse, her back making a sickening loud thud against the platform and the tips of her long hair brushing against Peeta's shirt.


	2. Chapter 2: Chiffon Yellow

Katniss scampers to locate her hands and knees before she could stand up, awkward beyond her wits, livid at the mere sight of Peeta gawking at her from the bottom of the stage, and extremely elated that her feet were tingling to dive off the platform and drop helplessly, and in slow motion, into his arms. While juggling in between fantasies of assaulting him in a form of making out and slapping him across the face, a hand comes up and is placed on Peeta's arm, giving him a slight tug. Peeta swivels slowly around, looking like he is about to faint from some type of sensory overload, and receives a seductive smile from a woman with shoulder-length hair, deep black that it almost looks blue.

"You are awful cute. You really are," she simply says with a thick, southern accent, lips stained with red, now turning him all the way so he could face her. "I got plenty of honey for ya." She has both her hands wrapped around Peeta's and begins to lead him away from the stage. He feels too vulnerable to protest so he conforms, eyes sweeping up and down the woman's behind as she swerves her hips while she marches to a private room with him in tow. Katniss starts to back off as she lets her four-inch heels drag, almost colliding into the dance pole behind her, watching after the woman take him away.

Inside the private room, the woman pushes Peeta down onto a big lounge chair and he clumsily falls back, hitting the sofa quite hard that his head ricochets. She doesn't waste time as she reaches behind her and pulls the string off her bikini top that is lacking much in fabric and merely covers her nipples. Her breasts bounce with each step she takes, stopping mere inches in front of him with a mischievous look on her face, her crotch area directly at Peeta's eye level. Peeta begins to cup the stubborn bulge in his pants.

The door slams open and Katniss steps in with haste and authority, looking like she wants to rip the woman apart.

"Get off his dick, Johanna!" She crosses her arms in front of her.

Johanna whips her head around and looks back at Katniss, annoyed and tinged with fierceness. Peeta's head pops out and appears from behind Johanna, his face soured in confusion as he glances across the dimly lit room at Katniss. Johanna doesn't move. "Katniss, honey, at the rate you're going I don't think I can even begin to mount him-"

Katniss takes a step forward and looks determined not to take no for an answer. "This one is mine." She quickly peeks at Peeta, his eyes wide but still hazy from alcohol, head slightly lolling with each rise and fall of his chest. He reaches for his zipper.

Johanna scoffs and turns on her heels in defeat, leaving Peeta alone and heads towards the door where Katniss is standing as if she is about to pounce on her. She gives Katniss a dirty look before she leaves.

"I'm stealing your next customer," she threatens her, and swings the door shut. Katniss glances at the door and listens to the tapping of Johanna's shoes, and waits until she hears silence outside the hallway before she moves towards Peeta still lounging in the chair, half conscious, his cock now fully exposed as he begins to languidly stroke himself. He shoots Katniss a lazy smile.

"Kat. What are you doing in Corpus Christi?" he mumbles, his hand still rubbing his penis.

"What does it look like I'm doing in Corpus Christi?" her hands fly up to her hips. She tries to look him in the eyes but feels magnetized by the movements that are transpiring below him. "What do you do?" she asks, her legs betraying her as she starts to drift closer to Peeta.

"Construction," he answers straight, his eyes busily scanning over Katniss' breasts.

Her eyes shrink at him. "I'm serious."

His free hand suddenly flies up and gestures around the room. "And I am seriously horny right now Katniss, and I was wondering if you could provide some service, since all you've been doing is answering my questions with more questions."

Katniss stretches an arm out and slaps a hand hard across Peeta's face. He mutters "Shit!" below his breath as his head flings to the side, and holds it there for a while before he shrugs it off and glares back at Katniss as she lowers herself in front of him, knees finding the floor as her breasts push forward, spilling unapologetically all over his knees.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise. My ex-boyfriend is getting married. It is an honour to be able to give you one last hurrah."

She flicks away his hand that is covering his erection and grabs it with her own, her lips parting automatically, almost mesmerized at the sight. His cock feels hot and silky in her hand as she begins to stroke it up and down at a consistent pace, pausing to look up at Peeta as he closes his eyes and makes a guttural sound from the back of his throat. She leans her head down and darts her tongue out to press it wide and flat against his girth, licking from the base of his cock, and dragging it all the way to the tip. She repeats the motions, licking one side of his thick cock up and down as she emits a low hum, making it slick from sloppy traces of her saliva. She stops, takes the tip of her tongue and begins to wrap it around the head of his cock, running it over the slit to taste him, then fully enclosing it in her mouth. She makes her tongue play and swirl around the tip, her hand wrapping around the rest of him and continues to pump him, harder. She tries to ignore the accumulating wetness that is gathering in her sex.

"Aaaahhhh..." Peeta whips his head back and rests it on the chair, his Adam's apple prominent under his stretched throat, in sync with the rest of the noises Katniss is making him blurt out.

She expands her mouth more to accommodate his size before she proceeds to swallow him whole, his hand resting on top of her head and fingers digging deep into her hair. He growls in pleasure, thrusting upwards into her mouth as her head bobs consistently, taking all of his length further into her throat. His eyes are still closed, calling out to a nameless god, gritting his teeth as he gasps for air. His cock throbs wildly inside her mouth. He's so close, now cursing underneath his breath.

Suddenly she pulls all the way out, lips making a loud smacking sound as she plucks her mouth out of his dick, using the back of her hand to swipe at a little drool on her lower lip. Peeta's eyelids fly wide open, panting in loud breaths as his eyes drill down into Katniss. There is confusion on his face, and anger, and a vicious kind of lust.

Katniss struggles to stand up, her legs and her center feeling like hot mush. She flicks her hair back in a weak attempt to fix it.

"Since you're so good at leaving unfinished business..." she hisses breathlessly, turning on her heels and starts to aim for the door. "I think you deserve one too."

There is no synchrony between her legs and hips as they move awkwardly, walking out of the room leaving Peeta agape, hard and idle in the lounge chair. Katniss almost jumps back as she bumps into Johanna, who is poised and waiting on the other side of the door, eavesdropping the whole time. Before Johanna could start sniping at Katniss, Peeta comes barrelling out the door past her, fuming as he stalked through the hallway and out into the main room. Johanna catches Katniss staring at her, and she begins to shake her head.

"Disappointed customer. You should've let me have him," Johanna says as Katniss runs a hand to rid of the sweat sparkling on her forehead.

* * *

Gale reaches out and plays with a knob on the dashboard in front of him, browsing for any song he can recognize. He refuses to settle on a radio station until he knows he can sing along with the music. Eventually he gives up and stops at his favourite rock station. Even though the voice of the DJ fills the car, he can't help but be disturbed by the silence that has been haunting Peeta since they met up in front of a 7-Eleven.

His dark brown eyes cast a sideways glance at him, slightly worried at seeing Peeta looking out the window solemnly. Peeta shifts in his seat and exhales, as if he is bogged down by fatigue.

Gale returns his focus on the road in front of him. "I know you're not exactly Mister Chirpy, but you are especially extra glum today." He knows Peeta tends to over-think and likes to keep his most of his thoughts and problems to himself. It makes Gale want to lend an ear and at least get Peeta to share so that he won't have to carry all his inner burdens, or whatever it may be that he is carrying. Their conversations have always been kept at a casual level, and rarely scratches at personal.

Peeta rolls down the window beside him and spits his gum. He flashes Gale a quick look before he reaches for his pocket and fishes out a pistol. He studies it for a moment.

"Life confuses me sometimes, Hawthorne."

Gale's ear perks up. "It sure does. It also screws with you, laughs at you, hurts you, and ultimately fucks with you," Gale says as a matter of fact, pointing an index finger in the air as he underlined each word. Peeta begins to subconsciously rub at the handle of the pistol, trying to catch his reflection off the shiny black.

"You'd think you've left it all behind, something dead and done. And then Boom!," he suddenly waves his arms, swinging the hand that is holding the pistol in mid air, causing Gale to jerk back in his seat. "The past side-blinds you."

Gale's mind is churning as he plans to squeeze more information out the ever cryptic Peeta.

"Bro, is this about some chick?" Gale tries to cut to the chase. Peeta nods and continues to look out the window, the pistol now sitting comfortably in his lap. He reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a pair of leather gloves.

"Someone's in town, an old friend. Bumped into her the other day."

Gale turns the car into a deserted industrial area. "You're getting married in two months to a vixen who can pass as a Victoria's Secret model. In which part of the equation do you insert this 'old friend' of yours?"

Peeta shakes his head vehemently as he pushes each finger into the gloves, curling them in afterwards to loosen the tightness of the leather. "Nah. It doesn't matter," he disregards.

"Of course it matters! This is obviously bothering you!"

Gale presses the brake as the car screeches to a halt on a red light. An olive green car pulls up in the next lane, also stopping behind the wide white line of paint on the ground. Peeta glances out to the side and looks inside the other car, noting the driver and the man in the passenger seat whose heads are also cocked to the side and looking back at him. Gale brightens up as a song starts on the radio.

_The world is a vampire_

Gale starts to join Billy Corgan. "Sent to dra-in". His eyes are fixed, staring at the group of lights overhead, waiting for it to turn green.

When Peeta realizes that the men have no intention of peeling their eyes off of him from across the road, Peeta flashes them a half a smile and slightly nods. The driver of the other car nods back at him.

"Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames..." Gale continues to sing, trying to imitate Billy's raspy voice, his hands clenched around the stirring wheel.

_And what do I get, from my pain?_

Peeta returns his gaze to the front of the car and sighs quietly as the green light flashes and Gale's car roars ahead, leaving the olive green car in its dust. Gale shoots him another worried look.

"Listen, bro, go after what makes you happy. No one else is going to choose what's supposed to be better for you. As simple as that." They drive by plenty of empty parking lots, warehouses, and an old truck graveyard. Gale turns the car into another street leading through big vacant lots over-run by tall grass.

_Betrayed desires, and a piece of the game_

They are forced to another stop as another set of green light changes to red. The olive green car re-appears next to them, both men eyeing down Peeta, and he subtly acknowledges them through his side vision.

In one swift movement, Peeta, now with fully gloved hands, picks up the pistol sitting on his lap, his fingers naturally curling around the handle and the index finger into the loop hole. He stretches his hand up and out of the window, points at the driver's face as it moulds into a frightening realization, and pulls the trigger, the force of the explosion pushing his arm back. The driver's disfigured head falls all over the seat as his breaths cease, his eyes still open as blood gushes out of his mouth. Peeta pauses for a second before he moves his hand slightly to the left as he targets the passenger, who has started scrambling in his seat trying to pull out his weapon. Peeta moves to avoid the driver and to get a better angle as he aims and shoots his remaining target twice in the chest, dead before he could properly strap up his gun.

He throws the pistol out and across into the green car as it lands on the blood-covered driver's lap. Gale floors down the gas pedal and swerves wildly as they speed away from the crime scene, Peeta lifting his ass off the seat and sticking his head out the window as he laughs boisterously into the wind.

"Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in the cage!" He screams along with the loud rock music.

This actually makes Gale nervous, eyes darting from Peeta currently in delirium beside him, and back to the street view in front of him.

"Alright, alright, alright. Kindly duck your head back in the car...you high motherfucker!" Gale starts out calm then escalates into a shouting frenzy. Peeta freezes and does what he is told, reclaiming his seat and starts to take off his leather gloves.

"Gale, I really appreciate your advice. Thanks for listening."

* * *

Katniss turns the engine off and pulls up the break, parking her Corolla on an empty church lot. She is donned in her black formal pants and a thin beige cardigan over her kimono top, hair in a messy bun, and hauls her bag over one shoulder as her hand continues to rub on a white beaded rosary. She gets out of the car and walks towards the church, pausing to open her bag so she could drop the rosary in.

The church is empty as she intakes the smell of strong incense, and mixed flowers that always reminds her of her father's funeral. When she was young, growing up in Kentucky, her father raised her to be a strong Catholic. He used to take her to church with him every Sunday morning, and they would briefly discuss and summarize the sermon. He would then treat her out to a nice lunch after the service, which often got him into trouble with Mrs. Everdeen, thinking that it might spoil Katniss. Katniss can never recall one instance when her mother joined them for a mass service.

She sits inside a small, dark wooden booth, waiting for someone to appear behind the small window divided by thin metallic mesh. She listens as the priest on the other side finally settles down and clears his throat.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been..." she pauses and mentally calculates, "...two weeks since my last confession."

"...Katniss." the priest greets her, recognizing her a bit too well. Ever since she watched her father die by a gun shot wound to the head over a year ago, she has been coming in to confess regularly, finding solace in talking to a priest. She feels he is the only one she could trust at these times.

"Please forgive the person who killed my father. Please forgive my mother, for being horrid. And..." she goes through her usual list as she closes her eyes, head hanging low. "I... recently came across someone from my past, someone who once meant the world to me," she takes a deep breath and looks up, peering through the small holes of the mesh pattern. All she could see is the white fabric of the priest's robe. "I didn't think I'd ever see him again". She allows herself a smile despite a quick pang of pain rushing through, brought on by bittersweet memories.

"He broke me apart. Please forgive him too."

The priest remains wordless for an extended period of time, prompting her to take another peek into the other side to check if he is still there. She could hear him shift in his seat.

"Child, you have a good conscience by asking for forgiveness for these individuals. However you must let them ask the Almighty themselves to have their souls cleansed of their sins," he talks in a painfully slow pace, weakened by age, and something in his voice reminds Katniss of his grandfather, thus bringing her a homely kind of comfort. "You must stop carrying this...this myriad of guilt on your shoulders."

Katniss suddenly feels spent, curling inwards due to a heavy feeling in her chest. "...Father," she begins to weep silently. "I'm so tired...and I feel so lost."

* * *

Peeta slouches on a hot pink lounge chair by the main door of Christian Louboutin, one leg draped over the arm rest, one arm draped over the back, bored out of his wits. Sitting on the floor below him were shopping bags from Louis Vuitton, Jimmy Choo, Burberry and BCBG. He is suddenly hit by a cigarette craving and picks out the last stick from his pocket, bringing it up to his face to admire it.

"Sorry sir, no smoking," an overly made-up sales lady reminds him, winking. Peeta remains quiet and sends her a death glare.

Glimmer, wearing a yellow sundress and floral three-inch wedge sandals, materializes from behind a sparkling mannequin, her blonde wavy hair bouncing as she treads happily towards Peeta. She proudly showcases two different kinds of shoes in each hands, flashing her pearly whites while posing. Peeta's head shoots up from the chair. He looks clueless.

"Did you want me to pick the one I like?"

"Silly! I'm taking both pairs!" she giggles. "Don't they look nice?"

Peeta exhales and lets his head drop back against the chair. "I can't tell the difference, babe. They look like the shoes I bought you from that Choo store."

Glimmer gasps, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, the look of shock like wildfire all over her face. Peeta makes a mental note not to comment anymore on women shoes.

"These black pumps have the signature red sole," she gives him a look as if he was supposed to know, flipping the shoe over to show the red underneath. "Get it right."

"Can you actually walk properly in those?" Peeta's eyebrows are raised at her. "Seems like you can injure someone else with that, and the rest of your other shoes."

"I can. It's years worth of vanity training, and it's what I like to use on a bitch if I ever come across one in the club." She grins sweetly and sticks her hand out to Peeta, palm facing up.

Peeta contemplates her hand for a second and lets out an exasperated sigh, shifting in the chair as he reaches for his pocket. He pulls out his wallet and hands his credit card over to Glimmer. She disappears behind a wave of chattering shoppers and stops in front of the cash register, the sales ladies delighted at her purchasing enthusiasm.

Half an hour later he is relieved to leave the store, greeting fresh air with outstretched arms as he flings around the cumulating shopping bags in his hands. Glimmer pulls out her ringing cell phone and answers the caller in abnormally high spirit. Suddenly a woman's shriek coming from across the street pierces through his ears, alerting him as he subconsciously almost reaches for his hidden gun. Glimmer returns the high-pitched scream, jumping as the woman approaches her in quick strides. Within a minute of their reunion, they are joined by two more shrieking women.

Peeta leans in to whisper to Glimmer's ear. "Didn't you all just see each other last night?" he asks with a straight face. The assortment of shrilling noises coming from different women was starting to agitate him.

"Peeta, just drop off my bags in my condo," she says and turns on her heels as she is being pulled away by one of her friends.

"But what about lunch? I made a reservation and everything!" Peeta tries to call out after her but Glimmer is now laughing too hard to hear him. He slightly pouts his lips and looks down on the ground, glancing at all the shoes and clothes, the designer names in bold, big font slapped across the bags mocking him. He turns around and heads for the restaurant around the corner anyway.

He chooses to dine out in the patio section of Glimmer's favourite French restaurant, combing through the salad appetizer as he wrinkles his nose, waiting for the entree. He double checks the bags on the ground he has surrounded himself with. "At least Jimmy, Christian and Louis are here to accompany me" he mopes to himself. He hears a familiar voice calling his name from behind a tree on the sidewalk.

"Peet?" Marvel asks, looking confused. He quickly looks around before he drops his voice. "What the hell happened man, you look miserable."

Peeta rolls his eyes, at nothing in particular. "Nothing. Glimmer ditched me again." He shoves some leaves into his mouth and gestures at the empty chair in front of him. "Care to join me for lunch? I have escargots and cuisses de grenouilles coming right on up."

Marvel flashes him a wide smile and rubs at his stomach, plopping down in the chair and placing the red serviette on his lap.

"Sounds great! What's gren-wee?"

* * *

Katniss sits in front of the wall mirror in the dressing room of the strip club, counting in her head as she flips bills in her hands. She looks down and checks her skimpy bikini bottom and pulls out another folded one hundred dollar bill. She shoves the money in her bag sitting on the table and checks her reflection on the mirror, smirking at herself. She has one more hour of her shift and she's planning on just sitting it out. Week nights are usually slow. The door opens and Johanna walks in, raising her eyebrow as she purses her lips at Katniss in dismay.

"Get your ass up. You have a return visitor sulking in the back," she gives her a knowing look.

Katniss' face drops and does not respond right away, unsure whether she should go back out and take a peek at the main floor. She ponders, scolding herself that she's even entertaining the thought of seeing Peeta again. "Johanna, he's all yours."

Johanna's eyes flinch. She has already attempted another go at Peeta albeit unsuccessfully, the whole time Katniss confined herself in the back room. Now she just feels pathetic. "He wants you."

Katniss saunters behind Johanna through the dark hallways in the back of the club, small streams of red light starting to appear as they inch nearer to the opening that connects to the main floor. They stand in the corner as Katniss scans through the stage and over to the tables on the opposite side. She subconsciously takes a step forward as she winces at the silhouette sitting by the back wall wearing a cowboy hat, almost a mere shadow of a figure. He is leaning back into the chair with one hand stretched out over the table holding a cigarette close to the ashtray, flicking it, blowing trains of smoke from his mouth.

* * *

**A/N: The song Gale and Peeta belt out to in the car is called Bullet With Butterfly Wings by Smashing Pumpkins. I like to insert songs in my fics, and for this one I'm going back to my basics and embracing 90's alt-rock**

**I love French food, but I haven't actually tried frog legs.**

**I have no idea what I've gotten myself into with this fic. The storyline hit me, like a bad fart, when I was strolling along a Costco aisle**


	3. Chapter 3: Cerulean Blue

Peeta studies the pattern of ashes on the table below him, taking the weak flame from the end of the cigarette stick to burn the ashes further down. He pauses as he senses someone else's presence in front of him, standing across the table. He lifts his head and tilts it at an angle, his view somewhat obstructed by the lid of his cowboy hat.

Katniss' face is unreadable and he exchanges it with a warm smile. He tips his hat towards her and jams the remaining cigarette into the ashtray. She's wearing something simple, a black bikini number with sparkling studs.

"You started smoking again," Katniss says. Peeta's addiction to smoking was one of the things he had sacrificed for Katniss, going back to their college years. It was tough for him in the beginning, but he considered Katniss' happiness above his and everything else, enabling the process of quitting much more bearable. He swore off cigarettes when it became clear to him that Katniss was just looking out after him and his health. She wanted him to quit for his sake, not for hers.

"Old habits rise from the dead and die hard," he answers. "Like you", he thinks to himself. There is one empty Molson Canadian beer bottle beside the ashtray and he begins to reach out and scratch off the label.

"You just never learn, don't you Mellark," Katniss sounds disappointed, noting the hurt that crosses Peeta's face when she referred to him as his last name.

His hand comes up to cover his chest. "You never called me that before."

She blinks as she takes this time to study him while he's sober, sitting somewhere underneath a small pendant lamp hanging a few feet away, casting sloped shadows on his face. He still has the same cerulean blue eyes, the same smile, the same careless facial hair that frames his face that he lets run loose for a few days. Underneath all the layers of bravado, she could almost catch glimpses of the old Peeta trying to escape through. The Peeta that she knows. Self-deprecating, painfully quiet, tinged with boyish charm and oozing with sex appeal. Despite being re-acquainted with the little, familiar things that she once held dear, she suddenly feels a renewed burst of suppressed anger, followed by a strong determination to entertain and play along with this game Peeta is pulling her into, but reiterates one carnal rule. She insists to stomp down any emotions that will try to filter through.

"You haven't changed one bit, but you're so different. And I don't really know how that's possible," she says as she suddenly finds her arms crossing over her chest. She feels torn over how she should handle this reappearance of an ex-lover's ghost. "I don't know what you want, but you're wasting your time here," she says calmly.

Peeta fidgets and twiddles his thumbs. "I am actually here to ask you out on a date," he says timidly, glancing down on the ashtray and peeking back up at Katniss from under his hat. He is gauging her reaction, ready to fend off any violent attitude.

Katniss' jaw almost drops as she proceeds to shake her head, lips tugging into a smile and then transforms into a laugh. "Don't you pull any of that romantic crap on me, Peeta." She stops before she can continue the tirade, almost mentioning something about his fiance. She can't bring herself to think that the person she once considered her soulmate is about to marry someone else.

As soon as Katniss turns around, Peeta makes one last request. "Ok fine, if romance is not your thing. I want a lap dance." He pulls a bundle of dollar bills from his jean pocket and slightly waves it around. He places them on the wooden surface and he looks up at her, a flash of challenge on his face. His hands join together to interlace with each other on top of the table and waits for another set of reaction.

Katniss grabs Peeta's hand as she pulls him off his seat and drags him to a private room. Katniss tells him to take off his jacket and sit on the sofa. Slow music has started playing as she saunters to the light switch and adjusts it to two levels dimmer. She approaches Peeta, who is sitting on the couch looking smug and pleased, surprised when Katniss reaches out and flicks away his hand that is coming up to take his hat off.

"Keep it on. You don't touch me. Only I can touch you," Katniss recites the rules firmly. Peeta nods dumbfoundedly, eyes wide and excited. The music now fills the room, seductive beats and heavy bass lines booming from all corners.

Her red stiletto shoes are still strapped onto her feet as her leg lifts and she begins to straddle him on the couch, her hands quick to reach out and unbutton Peeta's dress shirt. She flings it open in haste as soon as she pops the last button, revealing Peeta's broad chest underneath, and she subconsciously grinds down into his growing erection. Her eyes squint at him before she places her palm on his nipples, then lets her hands trail down to his sculpted stomach. She suddenly lifts herself up off Peeta and positions herself right over the bulge in his jeans, slamming her crotch right back down and starts to gyrate into him with firm pressure. She dry humps him in a lazy, consistent pace until the next song starts, the mere sensation of rubbing into Peeta sending tingles up her spine and making her eyes shut close, enjoying herself. Her mind returns to earth as her hands come up to touch her breasts, her fingertips grazing her own nipples as she pushes them forward into Peeta's face. He smells like smoke and beer, mixed in with his faint sweat, a scent she finds oddly attracted to. A rush of inevitable heat shoot down into her centre, aching with pleasure. His hands curl and uncurl, resting obediently on the couch.

She stops to switch positions, completely rotating until her back is turned to him. She lowers her upper torso and bends down, almost crawling away, extending her arms and places them on a small table for support, inches away from Peeta's legs. Her knees are still planted into the couch, legs opened wide, making Peeta's legs compact together. Her body is suspended and hovering over him while he is still adamant on remaining frozen in his spot. This new angle gives Peeta a perfect view of the round of her ass and a small glimpse of her crotch as she sticks it up and back into his face, and this time she grinds and languidly humps air. Peeta darts his tongue out and licks his lower lip as his eyes sweep over the wet pool collecting in her panties.

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face as suddenly jerks forward, finally losing all restraint, and grabs to stop Katniss' waist from gyrating into his face. He spins her around and holds her still on his lap so he could look at her, both panting heavily and eyes fucking each other from a distance. Katniss begins to gather herself up and off of him, legs awkward once again as her feet land on the floor, her head shaking as she starts to take steps backward. Peeta huffs as he wills himself to stand up, his erection hard against his pants that it's almost hurting him.

"Main rule that I said: No touching allowed," Katniss struggles to talk as her chest rises. She has ran out of air in her lungs. Peeta takes another step forward as she steps back, his knee bumping against the table that is now pushed aside, his shirt draped open, hat still resting on top of his head.

"I shit on rules," he responds, his voice reduced to a low growl.

Katniss' heart almost jumps out of her throat as she feels the wall behind her, stopping her tracks. Before Katniss could croak out a protest, Peeta swoops in, his tongue forcing its way in through her lips and crashing into the roof of her mouth. Goosebumps scatter all over her arms as her own tongue starts to swirl against his, feeling swept away by his familiarity as they engage in a feral kiss.

Peeta's hands rest on the back of her thighs as he begins to lift her up, trapping her further against the wall as he reflexively pushes into her. She gasps and giggles, her arms coming up to snake around his neck, knocking the cowboy hat off of him as she bites on his lower lip. His eyes tear away and scan around the room and finds a drawer tucked in a corner. He keeps Katniss secured in his arms as he drags his feet toward the drawer and places her down, finally breaking off the kiss so they can both intake breaths of air.

There is a crazed look in his eyes as he pulls the straps of her bra down along with the cup, not bothering to unhook it from the back. He ducks down and laps away at her breast, his other hand coming up to fondle the other, the back of her head whipping back as it hits the wall behind her. He straightens up and grasps the string of her bikini, yanking it from under her ass in one swift movement. Katniss' kneecaps are shaking as Peeta lifts and stretches one of her legs up and places her ankle high on his shoulder. He grabs a handful of her long brown hair and tips her head up to lock gaze with her, right before his other hand pushes two fingers into her swollen core.

Katniss gives out a yelp as Peeta fucks her with his fingers, slipping in and out of the depths of her moist folds, as he feels her begin to contract around his fingers. He digs in deeper with each push, curling his fingers in, trying to find her spot. His lips touch hers as he tries to invite her to another kiss but her mouth remains slack, lips merely parted, uttering his name amongst other inaudible words that is like music to his ears. Katniss breathes out a long satisfied moan as his slick fingers continue to bury deep inside her sex, then drag them out almost all the way, only to slide them back in.

He fully withdraws his fingers and glances on the furniture Katniss is perched on, noticing all the juice that have dripped off of her, congregating below on the drawer. He reaches for his zipper and discards his pants and his boxers, dropping around his feet. He pulls out his rigid cock, hot and throbbing in his hands, as he guides himself and prods at her entrance, swiping the head up and down her opening, and finally sliding it through her wet folds.

Katniss hisses in blood-curling pleasure as he stretches her wide, Peeta grunting in between, furiously pumping his cock into her, one of his hands still holding up Katniss' outstretched leg that is poised on top of his shoulder. He loses himself in his thrusts as he moves inside her, shaking the drawer with brute force that it bangs consistently against the wall with each push. She is caught in a whirlwind of sensations, struggling to keep her eyes open and before she realizes it, her hand comes up to cup a side of Peeta's face.

His head lolls forward, resting it against her forehead as he whispers, "...I'm sorry...I missed you...I'm sorry..." like a short mantra.

She feels her walls tighten around his cock as he bucks forward in finality and heat explodes between her legs, savouring in his release. She gasps out her orgasm as her name escapes through Peeta's lips and roars into her ears.

* * *

Gale stops in front of a heavy metallic door, his hand holding an empty briefcase, glancing sideways to ensure he is not being watched. He pushes through the main door, the sound of metal scraping against each other making him grimace. The warehouse is spacious and worn down, the air is musky and some windows are broken in to, possibly by impact of thrown rocks. He walks through endless aisles of used, massive factory equipment lined up in rows. He shoves a hand in his pocket as he knocks at a strong, oak door with the other. He hears Cato telling him to come in.

He steps into Cato's office, wide, colourless and empty, a mere folder on top of his oak desk, a metallic cabinet by the window, and a lone big screen TV mounted on the east wall. He sees Cato standing behind his desk and greets him with a smile, his hands locked behind him. Peeta is standing across the desk, his briefcase sitting on a chair, reflecting Cato's exact position, his head turning to look back at a slight angle as Gale enters the room. Gale doesn't stand beside Peeta but saunters towards the filing cabinet and leans back on it.

"Good morning! I'm very happy to let you know that the recent operations have been carried out successfully," Cato pauses and picks up a full sack on the floor, almost bursting in seams, and places it on his executive, expensive oak chair. He opens the sack and begins to pull out wads of one hundred dollar bills. Gale and Peeta shoot each other small grins.

Cato puts one bundle in front of Peeta and one bundle on the far end of the table for Gale. He reaches back into the sack he adds two more layers for both of them.

"Our dealers are happy, our drugs are being delivered happily, both of you are happily cleaning up my list..." he trails as he continues to stack more money, creating two tall piles on the desk. "Therefore we have happy customers!" He glances at Peeta and Gale, presenting them their pay day.

Gale detaches himself from the filing cabinet and treads towards Cato's desk covered in pyramids of money. "Might I add, Cato, that I am happy to be partners with Peet over here," he says as he slaps Peeta's back. "The accuracy of his shots are way over perfect, and lethal."

Peeta flashes Cato a fully-toothed grin as he curls a hand to punch Gale's arm good-heartedly.

"Yes, Peeta has always delivered well, I know that for a fact," Cato pauses to look at Peeta. "You are my top hit man."

Peeta nods slightly and fidgets. He doesn't take compliments too well. Cato suddenly holds his palm up at a reminder and targets his pile.

"However, I was forced to pay a witness to keep his mouth shut. Peeta, someone learned of your whereabouts during the night in Padre Island. You were almost ratted out." Cato's eyebrow is raised. "It had costed me a lot of money."

Peeta's face screws in confusion as he tries to recall Padre Island. He closed that particular assignment quite a long time ago, and he received no complaints or yellow flag from Cato nor Gale. He watches as Cato hover over his pile to pick up two wads of fat bills and pluck it away, dumping it back in the sack.

Gale watches in disbelief as Peeta stares off into a distance and remains wordless over his payment deduction. He thinks twice and stops himself from protesting on behalf of Peeta as soon as he sees a hint of provocation in Cato's eyes. Cato hands Peeta a folder containing their next target assignment and dismisses them for the day.

Outside the warehouse, Gale and Peeta walk along the wooden pier, looking out into the calm waters. They stop on the edge, burrowing into their thin black jackets as a rare chill blows from the sea. Gale feels the need to start the conversation again.

"I can't believe he just did that with your pay? Padre Island was a seamless operation!" he says as he watches sea gulls fly low in front of them.

"It was one of our toughest ops and I was glad to get out alive if anything," Peeta responds, putting his briefcase down and opening the folder to look at a man's black and white picture, tattered on the edges. His next hit.

"Has Cato ever slashed your cut before?"

"...No. Usually he'd try to beat me up instead if something went wrong on his end."

Gale shrugs. "It doesn't make sense, man. You're the main killer in the enterprise. You murder murderers. And I'm merely your wingman," Gale shakes his suitcase to weigh it. "And I received a bigger piece of the pie than you."

Cato has many men working under his structural umbrella. Minions delivering drugs and weapons are on the third level, bottom tier. After Cato receives confirmation that goods were successfully exported, he sends the green light to have these men killed so he doesn't have to pay them. These killers are on the second level, medium tier. Second level killers are skilled murderers and usually demand an elaborately steep payment, and have a high tendency to have informants, rats, working under them. And this is where Peeta and Gale are added in the grander scheme of things. First level, top tier. Assigned killers to wipe out other killers, so ultimately Cato can scam his way out and will only ever pay his dues once in the industry.

"It doesn't matter. It's just money."

"But that's what this is all about, Peeta! Why exactly are you in this business for?"

Peeta's thoughts roll around his head, and it hits him that he's not certain why he finds himself still heavily involved in Cato's corruption. Ever since he was held up in a robbery and was given the ultimatum of fight or flee, feeling flushed from the rush of the thrill, something triggered inside and changed his views on means of survival.

"I think you may be forgetting Cato has my life on a tight leash. He has yours too," he answers, recalling that Gale was also picked up by Cato in the same fashion as he was.

"Don't you have a term? What if you have paid all your dues by now, or more?" Gale moves to take a peek at the picture in the folder.

"I don't know...who cares..." Peeta neatly arranges the clipped papers and closes the folder, bringing a hand up and rubs his face down. He keeps his hand on his chin as he turns to glance at Gale. More seagulls attack from air, swooping lower and close to the surface of the water. "I like the adrenaline."

* * *

Peeta is in Glimmer's minimalist condo mostly adorned in white modern furniture, sitting slacked on the leather couch next to her.

He is swimming in guilt over the overheated moment with Katniss in the strip joint, surprised that his conscience has woken up and attacking him to the point that he is actually bothered by it.

"_Way to go,self. Oh I'm Peeta. I just like to ruin everyone and everything. Life ruiner._" a voice in him echoes that sounds a lot like his.

"_Nah what the hell. It was Katniss. The Scully to my Mulder. The Marge to my Homer_. _My honey_. _Sweetie pie. Bunny boo_."

"_I'm a dick_."

His hand flies up to rub his eyes, mentally kicking himself. Fucking inner thoughts of Peeta Mellark when he's not on a killing spree.

Glimmer's Macbook is opened and placed on the coffee table currently blasting her own channel on YouTube. She is attempting to reach celebrity vlogger status, video blogging about everything mundane in her life almost daily. Peeta made her swear that she wouldn't include him in her videos. The recent episode she has broadcasted was the fitting of her wedding dress, and Glimmer clicks on the Play button so she could watch it again. Peeta almost jumps back as she screams in the video, followed by streams of tears on her face, proceded by choking, her mascara running comically down her cheek.

He shakes his head, failing to understand why women weep over their wedding dresses, and why they also have the tendency to turn into monsters over it. He tries to block out what's playing on her laptop as he returns his focus on the TV in front of them. She has The Notebook in full force. Peeta squints at Ryan Gosling.

"I thought it was my movie pick tonight?" he says, half question and half statement, looking over at Glimmer.

"It's Ryan Gosling on my screen. Your argument is invalid," she simply answers, hands busy with the expensive glass centrepieces for the tables in the wedding reception. She glances at the list of their wedding items as Peeta continues to squint at Ryan Gosling.

"Did you already pay for the open bar? That one is all yours since your friends are probably going to set up tents right by it the whole night," Glimmer says in her slight Southern accent. Peeta nods and secretly starts to search for the remote control.

"Don't forget to pay for the DJs too. I want two of them, just to accommodate everyone's taste in music," she continues. She writes one last line on the bottom of the things that are pending payment before she hands it to Peeta. She then temporarily glances to watch herself on the video playing in her laptop, and in it she's currently twirling around in her wedding dress with her friends laughing along in the background. She adds her own snicker on top of it. "I looked especially hot in this video," she nods at herself in approval.

Peeta sighs and decides he'll give in again to The Notebook. He turns to Glimmer and extends an arm to reach out, brushing her cheek. It's one of the rare moments Peeta feels extra affectionate and longs to feel affection back. When Glimmer doesn't pay him any attention and refuses him any type of reaction, Peeta moves across the couch, closing the gap between them, and wraps his hand around her wrist. Before he could pull her in nearer, she yanks her hand back and hisses at him.

"I am really busy right now, Peeta. Someone has to take care of planning the wedding. And it sure ain't you." She hasn't even looked at him as she picks up a booklet of flower arrangements. He grunts as he gets up off the couch and bends to kneel down in front of her, placing his hand over hers, and forces her to look at him.

He is searching deep into her eyes, his skin grazing against hers to calculate and catch any sparks dancing between them. He studies the waves of her soft blonde hair, her porcelain complexion, her blue eyes, a lighter shade than his. He is rummaging frantically, desperate to rediscover, to cling on to anything that is still there. He swallows an invisible lump in his throat when he realizes there is nothing. The flames have turned blue, after accepting that Glimmer may be investing in their union for the wrong reasons. He has been in the denial for the longest time, halfway through the duration that they've been together.

"What?!" Glimmer asks him, irritated that he is holding her back from browsing at pictures.

He suddenly feels exhausted from this one-sided relationship he has with her, and the worst part was that he knew all along. He is the king of callousness.

He slowly stands up from the floor, gathering all his guts and glory, as his own thoughts fly straight at him, colliding gracelessly into each other.

"_Shit. She has all the invitations ready to be mailed. The rest of the centrepieces have been ordered. She is picking up her wedding dress next week_."

"_Her brothers are going to kill me_."

"_Her friends are going to kill me_."

"_My mom is going to kill me_."

"_But her mom loves me_. _I actually like her mom. And her grandma is a sweetheart._"

"_Suck it up_. _Can't you just_ _put up with this a little bit longer?_"

"_Put up with being ignored. Put up with being left out. Put up with feeling used. Put up with feeling unappreciated. Put up with being passive and let things roll_ _over_."

"Glimmer. I..." The air is trapped in his throat. He finds this more difficult than zeroing in on a target riding in a moving vehicle.

Glimmer crosses her legs and leans back in the couch. "Peeta, what is wrong with you?" There is discontent in her voice.

He feels one of his feet inch back, ever so slightly, and he exhales.

"I can't do this," his head gestures lazily around the room. Glimmer winces at him.

"What is 'this'?" she asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Peeta dares to look her straight in the eyes. "I can't marry...you. I'm sorry." He takes another step in reverse.

Glimmer moves forward and stands up, her knees trembling. Her breathing has picked up in pace, almost looks like she's about to hyperventilate. Peeta's head hangs low, fascinated at the undulating shades of her beige-coloured carpet.

"What? Are you trying to say it's over?," her feet are immobile and refuses to take her closer to Peeta as she feels her heart constrict when she notices that he is serious. "Just like that, you snap your fingers and it's over?"

"I'm sorry Glimmer. I don't think we're on the same page." He lifts his head back up as his eyes take in the sight of Glimmer on the other side of the room. He has never felt this conscious about all his surroundings in a while.

"Just like that? It's that easy for you?!" Her tone rises, pumped with rage, her teeth almost gritting as she blindly picks up a centrepiece on the table.

Peeta's back touches the door, poked hard by the door knob. "This is not going to work out, you know this!" His voice catches on as well, hoarse and deep. He hates confronting matters that deal with emotions. But he feels this must be done.

"When did you realize that Peeta? Before or after you took me to Paris? After you made me think that you loved me?!"

"I did love you Glimmer. That's why I took you to places you've always wanted to see. That's why I did all the things you wanted me to do. But you have love reserved only for yourself." He takes in a deep breath before he turns around and lets himself though the door.

Glimmer trembles and sobs as she fights back the tears, screaming before she chucks the centrepiece across the room aimed at the closed door, shattering it to pieces.

* * *

**A/N: I was planning on inserting one more scene that shows Glimmer as undeserving and the wrong girl for Peeta, but y'all get the drift right? I would like to push on so I can incorporate Everlark soon.**

**Thanks for the support! Reviews are always appreciated and welcomed! **


	4. Chapter 4: Rusty Sepia

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Cathy, a supportive reader turned into a friend**

* * *

The bell rings indicating that it is recess and students in Lexington Catholic Highschool file out of their classrooms. Katniss holds a tray holding a huge portion of fries with gravy and a bottle of apple juice. She spots her friend sitting on one of the tables and nudges her way through the crowd.

"Hey Madge," Katniss greets her best friend who is already stuffing her face with her home-made sandwich.

Madge takes her time chewing while she stares at Katniss. "Where have you been? I've been starving since nine thirty!"

"It would help if you had breakfast, you know," Katniss retorts. "I tried out for the choir. My dad has been telling me to participate more in school," She smiles at Madge before she starts to munch on her fries. "And I like church music."

"Oh you'll make it Kat. You have a beautiful voice...you have the sound of a...a bird. Like a canary, or a blue jay."

Katniss frowns at Madge. "That doesn't sound very convincing."

The sounds coming from a guitar start to immerse and drown out all the cafeteria chatter in her ears. Katniss' head darts up and turns to look at the table behind her, where a bigger group of students are eating and goofing off with each other. Their table is dumped with scattered bags, a couple of encased instruments and half-eaten food. She recognizes the song that is playing and pokes Madge blindly at the side as she she looks on to her left behind her, at a blond haired boy sitting in between bags on top of the table, his feet resting on the chairs below, fingers brushing effortlessly amongst the strings of his guitar.

"That's Peeta. He's in Mr. Clark's class," Madge talks with her mouth full. Katniss is curious, turning to look at her as she continues to fill her in with information. "I heard his family is rich. They own that Panera store near the mall."

"He's cute," there is a glint in Katniss' eyes before she tears them away from Madge and rotates sideways again to watch Peeta behind her, who is now conscious that he is being talked about and is staring right back at Katniss. Her eyes widen at the realization, tickled by a small thrill that she has somehow caught his attention and gasps inwardly as she whips her head back around to look at Madge. "He's playing Oasis right now!"

"And I also heard every girl in his class is crushing heavily on him so I suggest you be careful," Madge glares at her knowingly, giving her a slight warning. Katniss snorts and turns around again, nodding her head as Peeta continues to play music. She feels her heart pause and the movements surrounding him slow down as he flashes her half a smile.

"...all the roads we have to walk are winding. And all the lights that lead us there are blinding..." Katniss catches on and sings along, her head peeking over her shoulder and makes more eye contact with Peeta.

"There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how..." she hits all the notes with flair and starts to projects her voice louder this time. Peeta suddenly moves off the table and lands his feet on the floor, keeping the guitar in tact with one hand on the neck and the other pressing it close to his chest as his fingers continue to pluck and run through the strings. He takes three steps to reach Katniss on the table in front of him and plops down beside her, his back leaning onto the edge of the table, careful not to hit Katniss with the head stock of the guitar.

"Because maybe- you're gonna be the one that saves me- And after all- You're my wonderwall," she sings as she studies the tuning pegs almost brushing against her shoulders. There is a slight blush on her cheeks as she finally stops to sing and can't seem to lift her eyes at Peeta.

"You sing really nice," he says, and extends an arm to her at an awkward angle over the guitar. "I'm Peeta."

Katniss shyly accepts his hand and shakes it, Madge's voice reciting Katniss' name from behind because Katniss has forgotten to introduce herself.

* * *

The next day Peeta finds himself striding across the school grounds, over half the football field and out through the staff parking lot to catch up with Katniss. She pauses to turn around as Peeta calls out and tells her to wait, cursing herself as she breaks out into blushes again. As soon as he catches up, he bends down in sudden fatigue, clutching at his chest while his guitar almost slides and falls off his back.

"You look like you just got off a marathon," Katniss jokes. Peeta bolts back upright and adjusts the strap of his guitar over one shoulder and his back pack over the other.

"I'd run a marathon around the whole school to look for you," he says, grinning wide as he invites her dark brown eyes to dance with his blue. Katniss smiles as her head shoots to the ground and studies the asphalt underneath her shoes. Peeta clears his throat when he realizes he may have made Katniss uncomfortable, and grimaces at the thought that he may have said the wrong thing already. "Do you walk home or take the bus? I don't mean to sound like a stalker or anything...I was thinking maybe we can walk together?" One of his eyebrows wiggle, inviting and expectant.

Peeta decides to play dumb. He already knew she walks to and from school everyday, and he has a vague idea of where she lives. His house is in the same neighbourhood as hers, but it is nestled away in a huge secluded crescent lined up with mansions. He sees her walk every morning when his older brother drives him to school, trying to catch a glimpse of her face when the car passes her by. He is used to having girls approach him and try and talk to him, but he is struck with a new conclusion that Katniss is actually the first girl that can make him somewhat nervous. And this makes him very intrigued.

They walk side by side, arms swinging freely at their sides, alert enough not to brush against each other's. Their conversations skirt mostly around music, and school, particularly their favourite subjects. They reach an intersection and Katniss waves goodbye before she ducks into a street, suggesting that they have lunch together again.

* * *

The ten dollar bill lays lonely on his desk, right beside his jar of change that has been accumulating for years. He has been staring at it, calculating in his head how much money he would need for bus fare, movie ticket, and food for two people. Later on, he knocks at his father's office on the third floor of the house, peering from the door as he pokes his head inside the room.

"Hi dad. I was thinking maybe I could start working in the bakery?" he asks, stepping into the office and shutting the door behind him.

His dad lowers his head as his eyes dart up at him over the glasses perched on his nose. He tries to keep his business as a separate entity from his family, and he ensures all of his sons receive the best education and encourage them to pursue after their own interests, not after his influence. "Son, we're fully staffed already."

"Yeah but for now...I could just sweep the floor, or scrub the ovens clean. I'd do anything." There is firmness and insistency in his voice, derived much from his father. "And I'm not asking for much but you'll have to pay me something."

Mr. Mellark takes his glasses off completely and places it on top of papers on his desk. "How much money do you need, Peeta?"

"No dad, I want to earn it."

"This will take away from your focus in school, you're aware of that?" His father knows he is doing quite well in his studies, excelling particularly in Maths. He can't help but start to worry.

"It won't, I'll continue my A streak! And...and I'll only work for a few hours each night!" he is starting to sound excited at his own offer.

And that's how Peeta landed his first job, cleaning the back room of his father's bakery, working three days a week for two hours per day.

As soon as he got his hands on his first small pay cheque, he cashed it in and summoned all the nerves before he could finally approach Katniss in the cafeteria. He is slightly trembling in cold sweat, voice cracking in half.

"Hi Katniss. Do you like aliens?" he asks without thinking twice, words spilling out before his mind could control it. Katniss stares blankly at him, holding up a piece of fry halfway into her mouth.

"I mean!... Oh god...Do you want to go out and watch Independence Day with me tonight?" he asks, almost shrivelling in fear of rejection. He feels his own heart behaving oddly, jumping an extra beat and blasting in his ears. Katniss and Madge look up at him from their food, chewing in unison as Peeta squirms subconsciously from across the table. Katniss's lips curl into a smile and says yes. Peeta does not cloak his sigh of relief as he gives her quick details on the time he is picking her up for their first date, backing off in his steps and bumping into the student standing behind him as juice spills off the tray. Peeta offers a cool apology to the girl, somewhat surprised that she is not angry at the stain on her white shirt and instead gives him a flirty smile. Katniss watches Peeta leave and head for his next class, making his way to the main hall. Out of nowhere, Madge pinches Katniss' arm to get her attention.

"Earth to Katniss. Earth to Katniss, you're drooling!" Madge teases her and can't decide if she should be concerned or excited for her friend.

"Madge, I think I like him. I _like him_ like him," Katniss finally admits, although Madge doesn't seem to be shocked at this revelation at all.

* * *

Peeta is getting used to taking the public transportation and is developing fondness for it, although he'd still jump at the luxurious chance of being driven around by his older brother Max in a BMW. At Grade 11, Peeta is still oblivious to the wealth that his family projects, and has no full understanding of the value of money. He is meek and simple minded, and enjoys artistic hobbies such as painting and playing the guitar. He has a binder full of sketches he has compiled over the years, since he started drawing at the age of ten. The binder sits on his lap as Katniss flips the page slowly, his left arm outstretched over her shoulders. She is leaning an arm against his chest, carefully studying the lines of his drawings and how they connect and discontinue, observing the way his shading gradually fades in and out on the paper. The bus quickly drives over a bump on the road and it shakes both of them in their seats, giggling as Katniss' cheek smacks into his chin. As her laughter subsides, she rests her head on Peeta's shoulder but keeps the smile on her face. He closes his art binder and puts it in his bag.

They're on their third date, butterflies fluttering wildly in their stomachs, and growing as well. He moves down to drop a slow kiss on her forehead. He hasn't worked up the nerves to kiss her on the lips yet. Although hours earlier in Taco Bell he fought an urge to dive down into her lower lip to get rid of the taco sauce just sitting there, waiting to be licked.

"Did you like the movie?" he asks.

"It was so good! The thing with chick flicks though, is that the happy endings are too good to be true. Like, I don't ever see half the stuff in the movie happening in real life!" she answers, picking at a loose thread on Peeta's khaki pants.

The bus finally turns into the main street that leads to their neighbourhood. He looks outside the window and watches a continuous sequence of trees and houses zoom by. "Happy endings do happen. I believe in happy endings." He begins to play with the tip of her braided hair, flung to one side of her shoulder.

The air falls silent for a while. Katniss sits straight up and gives Peeta's leg a quick squeeze. "So what are you planning to major in college?" she asks.

"I want to take Business Admin, and probably picking Accounting as my major. How about you?"

It's a new habit of Katniss to move her head extremely close to Peeta's when she talks to him, her eyes shifting down low to watch his lips move, but she doesn't kiss him. "Business as well. But I want to major in Finance. I heard there's too much workload in Accounting."

"And I heard Finance is complicated and boring. It's like learning another language that is complicated...and boring."

"Hey. I could be managing your family's riches in the future so you have to be nice to me." She lifts a hand and holds Peeta's cheek, and also gives it a small squeeze.

"Hey yourself. I'm always nice to you," he smiles and nudges the tip of his nose to hers.

The bus approaches a stop and they both get off, the sun blasting down in the late afternoon. Peeta does not want to drop off Katniss at her house yet and instead pulls her towards the park on the other side of the block, eyeing the playground. Their arms brush against each others' as they tread the sidewalk.

"Isn't the future scary? Everything else is unknown except what we have right now," Katniss has a pensive look on her face as she turns to Peeta.

"The unknown is scary. But you work towards your future one day at a time, you don't fear it," he says, and moves to pull her into a hug when he notices the frown on her face. "Hey. I don't know much and I'm not a psychic. But I think I want to be with you...for a very long time."

Her lips tug slowly into a smile as she squints at Peeta through the sunshine, both now inching closer to the playground. He detaches his eyes from Katniss and glances at the swings, and there's a little boy wandering around aimlessly, undecided whether or not to play on the slide or get on the swing set. Peeta suddenly jumps to makes a mad dash across the field aiming for the swings, Katniss half terrified as she watches the little boy run away from the playground to join his grandfather sitting on a bench. She begins to run towards Peeta who has now claimed his throne over a swing, his bag now forgotten in a patch of grass by the monkey bars.

"Peeta you have to stop kicking kids out of the playground."

Peeta smirks as he pushes his way up in reverse before he swoops down low, then kicking his legs high up to gather more backwards momentum. He gestures at the empty swing beside him and encourages she fly high with him too.

"Come on Kat. You will never be too old for swings."

* * *

There are two pieces of mail he received that hold the utmost importance, the deciding bridge to the next stage of his life, sitting on his desk. He carefully picks a package and opens it, pulling out a letter and is suddenly swept by an overwhelming realization upon reading the first paragraph. It's a letter of admission acceptance from University of Kentucky, inviting him to attend the one school of his dreams. He happily slams a fist on the table and cheers on after himself, his eyes flinching from smiling too hard. He gingerly places it back down on the table and rips the next package, the Western Kentucky University logo splashed across the envelope. He lets out a short laugh, his confidence level shooting up a notch.

The sudden knocks on his door make him jerk back in his seat, followed by a high-spirited greeting from Katniss. He rushes to arrange the papers neatly back in their respective envelopes and stacks them in a small pile. He slides a desk drawer open and drops both envelopes. He tells Katniss to come in as he turns around from his desk, swivelling in his chair.

She steps into the room waving an envelope at Peeta, flashing him a full grin. She then holds it close against her chest, walking until she reaches a small distance from his feet. He stands up from the chair, feeling a tinge of nervousness at the incoming news. They have both been waiting for responses from their desired universities for a long time, and despite his excitement over the invitation from University of Kentucky, he decides to hold it back until it is known to him which university Katniss has gotten accepted into.

She lifts the package up at the space between them and with two pinched fingers, pulls the letter up, showing to Peeta the emblem of Western Kentucky University as the heading first, and the rest of the acceptance letter in the middle. She begins to hop in glee and squeals, freeing one of her hands to hold Peeta's. She is hoping he would be excited too, and studies a streak of confusion that quickly forms of his face then disappears.

"How about you? Did you receive any letter yet?" she asks him as she tries to regain her voice. Peeta now looks somewhat stunned as his hand fumbles behind him, trying to grasp the drawer handle. His thoughts speed as he suddenly finds himself creating a new decision, albeit a difficult one. His head darts back down at the drawer, almost ripping it open, eyes skimming over the envelops in a flash and summons the one he thinks is right for him. For them.

"I did! I got one from Western as well!" he exclaims as he shows her the letter, mirroring the anticipation in Katniss' eyes.

For a moment, it looks like she cannot contain herself any longer as her breathing becomes unstable. "You're going to Western too? You're going with me!"

Peeta nods and smiles as he showcases his letter. She jumps into his arms as they encircle her, lifting Katniss up in mid-air and holds her there. Her arms snake around his neck as she lowers her head and brushes the tip of her nose side to side with his, and as she starts to giggle in between, Peeta shifts forward and catches her mouth with his. Their eyes swing shut as they move shyly at first, Peeta enjoying the softness of Katniss' lips. He slowly brings her back down on the floor but maintains the kiss, his tongue finally flicking out, begging for entrance through her lips. Katniss lets out a small moan as she parts them, welcoming him as his tongue continues to discover hers, gradually losing all his reserve. His eyes crack open as he pulls away, his arms falling down to his sides. Katniss is agape, her heart racing as she begins to feel a tingling sensation through her body. He gulps a lump down his throat as he tries to keep his hands to himself.

"Katniss...I love you," Peeta declares. Katniss does not twitch a muscle and she looks like she's about to cry.

"I love you too. I do," she answers, her eyes sweeping over Peeta and stopping at his mid section.

"You know how I feel about you. And maybe what I want to do with you. But we don't have to do anything until you know for sure you're ready," he says. His voice is unsteady and tends to crack majestically in half whenever he's nervous. He starts to back away automatically when he sees one of her feet move towards him.

"Peeta. You have no idea how adorable you are when you're clueless." She looks at him tenderly and brings a hand up to caress his face, fingers tracing along his jawline, and baffled at the depth of her own emotions for him. There is a small spark in his eye as he leans down on her to pull her into another insistent kiss, hands magnetizing to her hips as he begins to push her back. He gently lays her down in his bed, watching her face intently as he readies himself to receive any last minute protests that might potentially stop his heart. And when he doesn't, he lowers himself onto her as he lets his mouth claim the side of her neck, peppering her with kisses and down towards her collarbone.

* * *

He curses out loud as he mishandles his green coloured lighter and drops to the ground, lost in a sea of tall grass. The far east wing of the main hall of the university is a long extension of the building, littered with trees and benches outside. He has chosen a spot around the corner of the end of the wing to hide his random cigarette cravings from Katniss. He secures a stick between his lips and bends over, hands flailing wildly amongst the grass, questioning his colour-picking decision when it comes to lighters. He gives out a yelp as he feels the impact of a hand slapping across his ass.

"There you are!" Katniss says enthusiastically, proceeding to wrap her hands around him from behind. Peeta is still hurting, turning his head to give her a hurt puppy look.

"Gee, Katniss. That is going to be red for days," he says, talking with the cigarette trying to cling on to his moving lips and one of his hands rubbing his bottom. "I'll be like a baboon...with a giant red butt."

Katniss keeps her hands interlocked around his arms and merely peeks at him from his shoulder, snickering at a mental picture of a baboon. "I happen to think those monkeys are cute." It seems he has forgotten what he was meaning to do in his secret spot, which is not so secret anymore, and Katniss makes a small commotion as she sees the cigarette hanging from his lips.

"I thought you said you were going to stop smoking?" she asks as she finally lets go, her lower lip jutting out into a pout. Peeta turns around to face her, plucking the stick from his mouth. He exhales and plays with it before he flicks it away, hitting the brick wall before it lands on the ground.

"I know...I'm sorry. It makes me feel relaxed," he looks sadly after it, reflecting the pout on Katniss' lips.

"You have to take care of your lungs Peeta. I need you to be healthy so we can prolong our lives together!" she suggests. He blindly reaches out to hold her hand as they begin to walk away and head for an entrance door.

"But you see I have two lungs." Peeta attempts and fails, the smile on his face diminishing when he sees Katniss glaring at him. He continues, "Alright. I'll try harder, and divorce from my love of smoking. Then we can be old and gray and wrinkly together a hundred years from now, and we'd still be making out."

Katniss' face sours at a thought, then lets out a snort.

"I don't know about constant making out, but a hundred years is outworldly especially according to today's standards. I'd be lucky if I can push 80."

"I'd still make out with you even if your hair is all white and thinning." He sounds firm, looking deep into her eyes as a corner of his lips tug up to a smile.

Katniss gives him a slight slap on the forearm as she giggles. "Ok Peeta, this is where you stop being cute and stop giving me mental images of myself as old, gray and wrinkly."

Peeta lets out a quick laugh, then calms himself down, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips. "I think you'll still be beautiful."

* * *

The football field has turned into a sea of long black robes and black academic caps, with a huge stage dominating the front, facing away from the school building. The convocation ceremony has begun and a speaker approaches the stage, bordered by a line of professors and the top committee of the school in the back. Katniss starts to fan herself, adjusting the cap on her head as she begins to sweat in her gown, head turning back and around to her right. Peeta catches her eyes and sends her a wink from across a wall of students, then adds a waggle of his eyebrows.

Another speaker takes their turn behind the podium, which ultimately leads to the moment everyone has been waiting for; the summon of their names and the acquisition of their diploma. Katniss is hailed after a number of students climb up and down the stage, her heart suddenly beating double the rate as she makes her way through and up the steps, petrified that she might trip over and fall on her face by the time she gets up on the platform. She is greeted by handshakes as she walks along the length of the stage and finally gets her hand on her diploma, pausing to look at a photographer below, taking a number of pictures. She quickly scans through the crowd in front of her that is analyzing her every move, as she tries to spot Peeta amongst the many upturned faces.

She beams as she finds him, and watches him lift a hand to his lips and quickly blows her a kiss. He feels exceptionally proud of her, accompanied by a rising feeling in his chest that he can't quite categorize. He looks longingly after her, and to him, she embodies a promise, a daily glimpse to his future, a burning fire in the dark crevices of his life.

* * *

He presses on his brake as he parks his car on a 60-minute guest space in front of a towering building, a bit north of downtown. Peeta steps out of his car and saunters to the passenger side, opening the door for Katniss. She is occupied with fixing her hair in the small mirror above her, hands shaking in anxiety. Peeta grows impatient as he reaches in to pull her out, Katniss letting out a small shriek of hesitation.

"Kat, you're going to be fine. If you don't stop fussing over yourself you'll be late for your first day of work," he says. He is wearing a crisp white dress shirt under a black jacket, black formal pants and his hair is gelled back. He is nervous as well, but he conceals it better than Katniss.

"Yeah. I'm excited. I'm so excited that my knees won't stop shaking," she points down at them comically, her face looking like all hope has gone.

"If it's any help, my palms are sweaty as hell," he offers her a smile and urges her to gather her bag sitting on the floor of the car. Katniss takes an intake of air as she leans in and kisses Peeta, her hands flying up to mindlessly adjust his collar.

As if on impulse, they both look up high at the building, admiring its modern architecture, and watching a more mature crowd march in through the huge revolving doors. "This is it, isn't it. Welcome to the rest of our lives!" she huffs in half a question, as she and Peeta prepare to fluff their wings before they completely blend into the vast world of employment.

She was ecstatic upon learning that she was hired by a mutual fund company to work as an Operations admin, and Peeta was hired as a junior auditor for the government, the revenue agency building a seven minute car drive from Katniss' workplace. "You have a good day. I'll call you during lunch, and I'll pick you up at five," he rehashes the plan before he ducks into his second-hand Mercedes, and waits until Katniss disappears through the door.

At such an early stage after their convocation, Peeta can't help but think further up, to the point that he is wildly driven to plan for the both of them, and take the initiative to save money so he can purchase their own condo in the trendy downtown area of the city. He smiles to himself as he leaves the parking lot, bubbling over with inspiration.

* * *

His cell phone is ringing under his pillow, Katniss' picture flashing on the screen as the incoming call. He exhales as he finally plucks it from underneath, quickly puts on some new clothes and heads outside. He has just finished talking to his parents who were both working in the bakery, apologizing for his sudden news and change of plans. His parents have taken the news in a mild manner, mainly because his father trusts him on his decisions. He usually blocks out the verbal tirade from his mother.

He grabs the keys to his car and aims for Katniss' house. He doesn't feel like walking outside all of a sudden. His phone rings again, but this time he clicks at the receiver, hearing a voice that is still unfamiliar to him.

"Your plane ticket is ready," Cato says in a low voice. "Let's fly."

"I'll meet you in a while. I need to do something first," he says as he studies his face on a mirror as he passes by the hallway leading to the stairs down to the living room. He looks stressed, and haggard, and he suddenly feels weak.

"Alright. By the way, your girlfriend is cute." Cato hangs up. Peeta pauses and sneaks around the sheer curtain, looking out at the window and barely catching a glimpse of Cato in his car parked on a curb covered by bushes before he drives away.

Peeta reaches Katniss' house in mere minutes, feeling the need to drag his feet across the pathway to the door. Before he is able to knock, Katniss swings the door open, fumbling with a set of keys in her hands. She gasps as she almost slams into him, taken aback by the emptiness she sees in his eyes. He wants to do this quick and get it over with, resorting to using and generating anger because he thinks it will be easier for Katniss to hate him instead of her being sad and worried over him.

"There you are!" Katniss exclaims, turning on a smile despite a troubled feeling of pending doom. "Where have you been? You went AWOL on me this whole week?" She lunges at him to give him an embrace but he remains frozen, his hands curled into a ball of fist on his sides.

"Katniss, I'm moving down south. My uncle is sick and he needs help with his business there."

"Oh no...is your uncle alright?" her smile diminishes, replaced by genuine concern.

"I don't know if I'm coming back," he says in a dead monotone, head dipping low and looks at his hands. "We're done. We have to move on from here. I don't do long distance relationships," he swivels away before he could see the kaleidoscope of emotions on Katniss' face. He knows he can't stomach seeing it, seeing Katniss hurt, so he turns around and reminds himself to start walking back to his car.

"Peeta!...Wait!," she almost leaps forward, but his strides have picked up in pace, taking huge steps. "No...you don't mean that, do you?" she asks, confused, all sorts of dread washing over her.

He doesn't respond and he continues treading down the pathway. For some reason, his parked car seemed abnormally farther away as his shoes clicked endlessly against the asphalt.

"Peeta..." she commands her legs to stop walking as she watches his back, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Turn around and tell me you don't love me anymore."

Peeta screeches into a halt, he almost looks like he is in deep contemplation. Within seconds he is at it again, legs continuing to tear him away from Katniss. He tries to ignore her as he starts to blink back something in his eye.

"Tell me!" Katniss yells louder and she wants an answer. She also wants to run to him, to hold him back, to discuss what could be wrong, but she doesn't. She could see Peeta's shoulder rise as he takes a deep breath and he turns around in a rush to scowl at her, eyebrows furrowed under rage he has been trying to suppress. Rage over the situation he has gotten himself into. Rage over something he feels he has no control over. Rage over how one quick second can and has changed the course of his life.

"No, I don't love you anymore!" he almost spits out as his lips tremble. "Is that what you want to hear?!...I don't!...Ok?" He turns away one last time before a tear fully materializes and rolls down his face.

* * *

**A/N: I didn't have the initial vision for this chapter so it took a while for me to write :\ I thought I'd do a review of the past to fill in gaps before I steer back to present (thanks to jflowera for her thoughts and questions ;) **


	5. Chapter 5: Deep Mahogany

The piercing sounds of high-pitched guitar riff scratch, mixing in with the low and slow bass lines of a seductive rock song that seeps and diffuses throughout the main room of the strip joint. Streams of red light dim and she takes the stage alone, wearing a fishnet bra top and a fishnet sequin micro skirt, flipping her long hair away behind her shoulder. She disregards the hoots and hollers from the audience, letting the music drown out the appreciation of the men watching her from below the stage.

"_I don't mean to make obscene. But even the mob know what the hell I mean_..." the languid beats from the song fill her senses as she twirls around the pole and pauses, bending down to lift her ass up at the crowd, followed by slow humping as she lowers herself until her knees hit the stage floor.

_"The knot is tight on my blindfold. I got my flesh full of blood. I hate rock and roll_..."

She straightens up and extends an arm to cling to the bar in the middle of the stage, swooping up and then down, rotating reflexively around the pole as her hair flies wildly behind her. She suddenly stops to push her crotch closer to the metal as she begins to rub it down, her hand coming up to cover one of her breasts as she flings her head back. She closes her eyes. And her ears. She wants to lavish in numbness, basking in the spiralling black of oblivion.

"_Some think too much, then come too soon. I just curse the sun so I can howl at the moon_..."

Across the city, Peeta sits alone in his open-concept penthouse condominium, slacked, comfortable and uninspired in his couch. The mere light in the room is all the way in the kitchen, a medium-sized fixture over the island counter as it struggles to fan out and illuminate him in the living room. His head is jutted forward, chin almost touching his chest as he watches his coffee table intently, currently laden with bundles of dollar bills in denomination of one hundred. He lifts a leg up and places his foot against the edge of the coffee table. He hasn't taken off his shoes yet since he came in, breaking his own rule where it concerns the care and maintenance of his expensive rug laying underneath the table.

"_Don't wanna love you no more. Don't wanna love you less. I wanna be crushed by your sweet caress_..."

Cato has summoned a last minute meeting with him by the pier earlier in the day, and like an obedient dog, Peeta conformed. Cato offered him a warm smile as he handed Peeta a briefcase full of money, an amalgamated amount that he had taken away from his share during their previous pay day that shocked Gale more than it did Peeta. At first Peeta refused vehemently to accept it, admitting to Cato that he was being reckless during the Padre Island operation and it was all his fault. He deserved the pay deduction. Instead, Cato apologized and was not planning to take no for an answer, placing the briefcase down by Peeta's shoes before he turned on his heels and walked away.

"_What's the fuckin' difference, we're all gonna die_..."

Peeta is merely a silhouette in his living room. He looks down in his hand and uncurls a lone one-hundred dollar bill he has been strangling since he opened the briefcase in his condo and spread the wads of money all over his coffee table in no particular fashion. His thoughts fly above him, overlapping into each other as new ideas bud. He thinks about Katniss, and what his life would have been like had he stayed in Kentucky. He assumes he would still be working for the government, but he'd have a couple of promotions by now from being a junior auditor and decides he would be content with that. He thinks of that condo unit he was fancying over in downtown, wondering what it would be like moving in and living with Katniss. And then, his thoughts just settle simply on her.

The foot he has poised over the edge of the coffee table remains still as his toes subconsciously begin to curl and uncurl inside his shoe.

He picks up the lighter sitting beside him on the couch and flicks it at a corner of the dishevelled hundred dollar bill, watching the spark blow into a bigger flame. He falls mesmerized at the sight of the burning piece of paper, his eyes shrinking at the hot, bright yellow that is eating up the bill. He grunts as he suddenly stretches his leg forward, pushing the coffee table with rough force as it rises on one end and tilts over, accompanied by a loud thud as it lands on the hardwood floor. His gaze drops at his now upturned table, the bundles of money bouncing off and spilling all over his five thousand dollar antique Persian rug.

"_You gonna do something killer? C'mon give it a try._"

* * *

It is hot in Texas.

Peeta chooses to relinquish in the heat, insistent on wearing his thin black jacket over his old gray shirt, faded jeans, and a brand spanking new pair of boots. He moves along a small crowd on the sidewalk, coming up into Waco Street from Mestina, heading north to Leopard Street, head dipped low but eyes directed upwards, flicking sideways. He suddenly stops on his tracks and pulls out a cigarette stick from the inner breast pocket of his jacket, the body of a burly man walking behind him proceeding to crash into his back, followed by a set of curses thrown towards Peeta. But Peeta doesn't seem to mind, grabbing the lighter in his jean pocket and making a tent over his mouth as he begins to light the stick.

He inhales, and then lifts his chin as he leisurely blows smoke from his mouth, giving no damn as the incoming crowd sends him dirty looks and shaking their heads. He has his lips holding the cigarette stick in tact, and using his right hand, he places the lighter back but inside a smaller left inner breast pocket this time. He begins to lightly run the same hand along the bigger pocket just below it, feeling the cool solid metal of his brand spanking new silent pistol. He whips his hand back out of his inner jacket and it flies up to pluck the cigarette from his lips, racked by a coughing fit amidst the cloud of his own smoke.

Gale has his earphones plastered to his ears, head nodding along to the rock music cranked up on his iPhone nestled in his jogging pants pocket. He brings a hand up to glance at the time on his wrist, and then starts to hop up and down, grabbing one of his legs to stretch before he resumes his morning run. He has completed two laps around two blocks, taking his sweater sleeve and wiping it along the sweat on his forehead.

The intersection of Leopard and Waco Street comes into his view, and veers left to head down towards Mestina street that runs perpendicular to Waco. He purposely cracks the bones in his neck as he feels a blast of energy, rotating his shoulders as he maintains a breathing exercise. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. His legs are invigorated, quickening the pace of his dash, ducking side to side to avoid the walking crowd like an obstacle course.

Peeta shoves both his hands deep in his pocket as he looks ahead of the street, leaving a trail of smoke behind him as his cigarette now hangs loosely from his mouth. His eyes quickly scan over a man walking towards his direction, his heart thumping an extra beat at a shallow recognition. Behind the man's shoulder, he could see Gale's head bobbing up and down as he takes his time jogging, approaching him, about four establishments away. Peeta's hand suddenly tickles in an odd kind of excitement, his eyes darting to the left at a looming alleyway scattered with full black garbage bags. Gale spots his blond hair surfacing from the circulation of crowd.

The man is staring at Peeta as he steps in nearer, and at about five feet away from each other, Gale charges forward unannounced and continues to run right on into the unsuspecting man, colliding into his back as they both fumble towards Peeta. Peeta discharges the cigarette in haste before one of his hands emerge from his pocket and extend to hold the man still before he steers him to the left into the opening of the alleyway. Before Gale or the man could blink, Peeta has yanked his silent pistol from his inner pocket with a right hand and prods it into the bewildered man's stomach, pushing it in further as Peeta traps him against the wall with his forearm splayed across the man's chest. Gale pretends to be shaken and disturbed, creating a commotion just a bit outside of the alleyway as people merely glance at him and continue their stroll.

The man winces at Peeta and tries to break free from his strong hold, chuckling like a maniac as some spit land on Peeta's face.

"Mellark. You sketchy, son of a-"

Peeta flashes him a forced smile as he pulls the trigger of his weapon, the sound of the blast impressively suppressed into silence. The man falls into a bed of garbage bags and gets swallowed into it as well, Peeta swiftly inserting his weapon back into his inner jacket pocket and dusts himself off. He pops out of the alleyway and joins Gale. They decide to finish their little charade for the crowd.

"Sorry man," Peeta apologizes for bumping into him.

"It's alright, bro." They nod at each other and Peeta leaves, Gale glancing into the alleyway and spotting the man's black shoe sticking out before he stretches and finishes off his morning run. "Some people just don't watch where they're going."

* * *

Katniss is curled inward, sitting in her regular confession booth which is weakly illuminated, made of stained mahogany. Her head is buried in her hands. "Please forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." Katniss' voice is muffled. "It has been one week since my last confession."

She doesn't catch it, but the priest starts to shake his head in empathy and disappointment at the familiar sound of her voice. He dreads random week nights like this, especially as soon as he hears her floating footsteps through the corridor of the church, meaning to confess another queue of sins. And not just hers, but the people whom have sinned her. The priest ensures he tucks away a prayer for her every night after she leaves the booth, asking God if He could relieve some of her sorrows and show her some kind of light, even if it's just a spark. "My child. What troubles your soul?"

She lifts her head up, stretching her neck all the way back, closing her eyes to welcome more darkness. "Please forgive this person I used to know. He is about to enter the holy stage of matrimony...and," she begins to reach into her bag and let her hand roam until she could feel the beads of her rosary against her skin. She pulls it out and begins to rub it between her fingers, her eyes flying open and stares at the wooden wall she is boxed within. "He committed a sin, Father. He did something really awful."

The priest allots a moment of heavy silence, clicking the current puzzle pieces that Katniss has just put forth. He clears a knot in his throat and for the first time in a long time, he glances through the holes of the metallic mesh that provides as the divider between him and Katniss.

"And how does this concern you?" he asks, peering at her profile. As if on cue, she dips her head low, her dark brown locks now completely covering her face.

"I committed a sin as well."

The priest lets out an exasperated breath, confirming his growing theory.

"Katniss. What enables you to do the things you do, even if you know you're about to do the wrong thing?"

She looks down at both her hands, her rosary draped across her palms and looped around her index finger. "I think sometimes...I tend to lose my ability to differentiate wrong from right. Probably because somewhere along the way I have stopped caring to pull away what is right and instead, entertain what is wrong." She ponders about her daughter, about her side job as a stripper despite the fact that she is employed full-time in a reputable bank as a financial planner. She feels helplessly unloved, dancing her body away for money, seeking the fleeting thrill of being lusted over by men who mean nothing to her, mere strangers and faces that change each night. And she'd always come home feeling empty, stuck at a dead end. And the next day is another rat race in the office that she keeps trying to win, albeit unsuccessfully.

"I think the problem here is you continuously commit sins thinking that you would be continuously cleansed from it. You ask God to redeem you and have you forgiven, and then you sin all over again."

Katniss' shoulders drop in defeat. "My dad used to tell me that it's proper to ask God for forgiveness." There is sadness in her voice that has completely brought down her mood even more.

"I think it's time I ask you about your father," the priest can't help but feel like a psychiatrist to her. But he knows she would refuse to turn over to professional help, because she is too proud. He has concluded that Katniss merely needs an ear that would listen and a voice that might provide a sort of religious intervention.

Her face suddenly brightens up at a thought of her father, and then she winces in pain, one of her hands closing in and squeezing the rosary trapped inside. "My daddy?..." She shuts her eyes again and lets her train of rust-filled memory take her back to Kentucky about three years ago, back to when her father was still alive, and back to the time when she felt her light had gone out.

* * *

The banana split sundae sits in the middle of the dining table, staring back at her. A luscious mix of ice cream, banana, and chocolate syrup that has been her favourite when she was a little girl, and definitely something her dad has always known and used to lift her spirits up during bad days. He sits across the table from Katniss, extending an arm out to push the sundae bowl closer to her. She is hunched over, her arms crossed on the table, and her chin resting on a jutted wrist. He sighs and nudges the bowl nearer to her, almost grazing the tip of her nose.

It has been a month since Peeta disappeared and left the state, leaving Katniss behind with a pile of unanswered questions and enough pain she does not quite know how to handle and come into terms with, let alone forget. Katniss feels too weak to entertain her dad's attempt to cheering her up, who has now resorted to grabbing a spoonful of chocolate ice cream and bringing it close to her stubborn closed lips.

"Dad...I'm not a little girl anymore and I can feed myself," she says. She has the smallest smile on her face and her dad quickly glorifies in it.

"Come on, KitKat. It's not the end of the world. There are a ton of other boys out there," he says, still holding the spoon in mid-air, trying to entice Katniss into finally eating it.

"I don't want a ton of boys," she mutters and mocks the word 'boys', freeing one of her arms and starts to stick a finger out to poke at the melting ice cream. Her dad is quick to pull away from her offending hand and without any hesitation, shoves the spoon of ice cream into his mouth instead.

"Katniss, after all is said and done, this guy was not meant for you. If he was, he'd still be here. It's simple," her dad takes another swipe at the ice cream and a bit of the banana, dipping the whole thing in chocolate afterwards before he gulps it down.

She could hear her mother scuffling behind them, followed by some clanging of utensils.

"I knew something was wrong with Peeta. It's the quiet ones that are dangerous and you should keep away from, because you never know what they're thinking! Who knows what they got stirring in their heads," her mother interrupts their conversation from the kitchen. "Quiet people have the loudest thoughts." Her eyes flinch in mild anger and she makes sure Katniss sees it.

Her dad ignores her mom and continues. "Look, everything will be ok. In fact, I have made new life arrangements that might also help you start anew, Katniss," he says, leaving a huge dent in the ice cream bowl. Katniss blinks at it and sighs, drowning in lack of excitement at the news her father is about to break. "It's a start."

Her mother neglects a pot full of water on the island counter and joins them in the living room, curious. "What is it Heath? What do you mean new arrangements?" She claims one of the empty chairs beside Katniss and looks at her husband.

Heath Everdeen manages his own shipping business in Kentucky, and is now planning on an expansion towards the south. He is a minor player in the shipping industry that caters to a niche market, his company specifically specializing in small furniture. He thinks the money he generates is enough to feed his small family, therefore enabling his wife Anita to stay at home.

"I'm leaving my partner with the shipping operations here in Kentucky. I'm branching out the business in the south," his dad says, pushing away the empty sundae bowl and holds back an incoming burp. "Pack your boots, we're moving to Texas."

* * *

Katniss dips her finger into a bowl of holy water, held up by a sculpture of an angel with detailed wings almost touching the floor. She moves her hand up to touch her forehead, then down to her chest, and finally brushes the remaining liquid on each shoulder to finish the sign of the cross, the gesture of holy trinity. Her father is steps behind her, proceeding to do the same thing as he swipes into the sculpture. They step out into the lobby of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, her dad allocating a moment to chat with the priest who is occupied shaking visitors' hands before they leave.

They quickly discuss which restaurant to have lunch in, fuelled by excitement of trying new things in the city. Her dad drives along the main road and into the downtown area, Katniss eyes' skimming across restaurants, small boutique stores and cafes on each side of the street. She beams at a Japanese restaurant and points at it, her dad quickly maneuvering the car to park parallel along the sidewalk.

Under a clear blue sky and slight breeze in the air, both their stomachs growl in attention as her dad insists they have lunch in the patio area of the restaurant. She doesn't choose a chair across the table her dad and instead, takes the seat beside him. They don't waste time and order food right away, relaxing and basking in the sun as they begin to wait for their sushi boat and bento box they decide they can share with each other.

"How do you like Corpus Christi?" her dad asks. It has been three weeks since they settled in. Her father has purchased a humble house just a couple of streets off the bustling area of downtown, and he has also started hiring a new staff. Katniss finds it difficult to take the initiative of finding a new job, but her curiosities of meeting new people and the eagerness of discovering gems in an unfamiliar place is distracting her mentality from wallowing over Peeta.

"I think I can bear the heat." She pauses to take a sip of tap water. She places the glass down on the table and studies the crowd marching in from both ends of the street. "Night life here is ok. They have good clubs and restaurants."

Her dad gives her a genuine smile and reaches over to give her hand a small squeeze. "I'm glad you're enjoying it here so far, KitKat."

She looks over to him and returns his smile, feeling fondness for her dad for being the only positive motivating force during a trying period of her life.

"I signed up for archery in Artesian Park. They're holding activities there for a month, and then I think they're moving down to Schanen Park." Archery is Katniss' first love when it comes to hobbies. Besides her parents, the only other person who knows about her affection towards a set of bow and arrow is Peeta. Her dad introduced it to her when she was young, at the age of eleven, taking her to the wooded areas outside their old neighbourhood to shoot arrows at empty pop cans lined up on dead trees.

"Your crossbow is quite old. You want to borrow my new one before you go?" her dad asks as he watches rolls of sushi being placed in front of him. Katniss is speechless and nods, eyeing down the tempura shrimps in her bento box. "It's in the storage room, all the way in the back," he reminds her.

They devour their food in silence, their chop sticks on a race against each other to the colourful array of sushi rolls in her dad's sushi boat. Her dad takes a swig of iced tea and sighs contently, leaning back into the chair and stretching his legs underneath. He thinks he may have reached his food limit because he suddenly feels drowsy from a full stomach.

"Have you been to confession lately?" her dad asks, searching under the tray for a toothpick. " I went a couple of weeks ago. It always feels good after a confession."

Katniss temporarily puts her chop sticks down to chew and cover her mouth. "I can't think of any sins..." she says, somewhat amused. She picks up her glass and takes a drink, expression suddenly pensive. "Yeah, sorry dad. Don't have any. Nada. Zilch. If anything, I was the one who was wronged." She makes a face and darts out her tongue at her dad. "The wrath of an ex-boyfriend!"

"Romans 5:12 says, 'Just as through one man sin entered the world, and death through sin, and thus death spread to all men, because all sinned.'"

Katniss feigns a yawn as she lifts her hand again to cover her mouth.

"We sin because we have the nature of sin already in us," her dad continues, carrying a little more critical tone this time.

"I bet you have the pages of those passages earmarked in your Bible," Katniss smiles as she picks up her chop sticks again, this time aiming for some salmon sashimi.

She usually takes light jabs at her father for taking religion seriously, and her dad usually takes these jokes quite well. She lifts her glass of water and finishes it off, scrubbing the taste of wasabi off her tongue. As she places the glass back down on the table, her eyes shut close by reflex as she jerks back in her seat at sudden loud shots coming from somewhere across the street. Two shots fired from a distance. Her hears ring and her eyelids fly open, noticing people have stood frozen in their spots and gaping at their table, dark streaks of horror in their faces.

"What was that about?" Katniss asks as strangers start to make distressed noises at her.

She turns to look at her father, who is sitting completely limp in his chair, his head flung back and hanging over the seat. Blood is pooling in his chest and has started to cascade down his white dress shirt, a realization dawning upon her that the two bullets were lodged in right in his heart. His mouth hangs open and blood is trickling down his chin, his arms swaying lightly and loose on his sides. She blinks as she feels her heart crawling up her throat, and she attempts to talk but she chokes. Tears are quick to form in her eyes, her hand coming up to clutch her chest as she feels her own body racked by uncontrollable sobbing.

"...Dad..." she says below a whisper, finally able to untie her tongue. She springs off of her chair and pushes back until it falls on the ground, her feet dragging in reverse and away from their table. Her hands fly up to cover her mouth and her upper torso lunges forward in shock and pain before she lets out a series of ear-shattering screams.

* * *

Peeta sits inside his white Lexus, parked outside a pool hall across the strip club that Katniss works in. Being a hitman, he completely runs in head-first against the logic of choosing a more obscure colour for a car, such as black. He has been waiting in the dark, folding and unfolding the corners of an old picture of him and Katniss in his hands. He has lost track of the time spent on waiting for Katniss to leave the strip club from its side door, glancing over the passenger seat dumped with wrappers and empty hamburger boxes from McDonalds and groaning inwardly.

He places the picture back in the hidden compartment of his small leather wallet and runs a tired hand across his face. He returns his focus to observing the side door as it finally opens and a tall brunette strides out, her legs bare and arms hugging the jacket close to herself.

* * *

**A/N: The song that Katniss dances to/Peeta broods over with is called You Got a Killer Scene There, Man by Queens of Stone Age. I find it a sexy stripper song but at the same time, very dark that it can also be applied to Peeta. **

**Unfortunately Prim does not exist in this story. I feel I'm already throwing many characters into the pot, and I don't have a role for her.**


	6. Chapter 6: Bombay Sapphire

_I learned to live half alive_  
_And now you want me one more time_  
_And who do you think you are_  
_Running 'round leaving scars_  
_Collecting your jar of hearts_  
_And tearing love apart__  
_

_-Christina Perri_

* * *

Katniss quickens her pace down the alleyway that leads to the poorly-lit parking lot behind the block. She tugs at the bag hanging on her shoulder and tries to ward off any ominous thoughts that something might occur before she could reach her car waiting diligently under the lone lamp post. She takes a deep breath as her shoes tap against the uneven concrete. There is a hitch in her heartbeat as soon as she hears another set of footsteps click a few feet behind, gradually gaining in on her. She feels a hand drop on her shoulder and she whips around in a knee-jerk reaction, clutching the handle of her large purse and swings it up before she beats it down repeatedly onto the head of her hidden intruder behind her back. Much to her dismay it has become like second skin to her, the fear of being attacked by a robber, or possibly a pervert lurking in the dark.

"Whoa, Katniss, it's just me!" the person barks, flailing his arms as he shields his face from the onslaught of fury from Katniss' heavy bag.

She freezes her purse in mid-air at the recognition of Peeta's voice, exhaling in relief as he emerges from the shadow and steps into the circular semi-luster of the street light. Her heart twitches weakly and demands attention, but her mind scolds it before she could do anything stupid, like burrowing into his chest if she decides to give him a quick embrace, or kissing the tip of his nose.

"Oh. It's you," her hands drop to her sides as her eyes roll, a hint of annoyance in her voice. The memories from their last rendezvous in the strip club are still fresh in her mind. She tries to trump down the mere fact that after battling it out with the angel and the devil on her shoulders, it was what she wanted. "Peeta, what we did was a big mistake. It should not have happened!" She defies herself and lifts her chin at him before her eyes bore into the dip below his neck.

Peeta's eyes quickly flit upward at a moth buzzing between them. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" He drops his gaze and suddenly finds her lower lip extra fascinating.

"Peeta!," Katniss whines. "What are you doing here anyway, sneaking around behind bushes..."

He shrugs carelessly as one hand digs into his pocket and the other one comes up to hold a side of his suddenly wobbly head. "You know, just checking the sights in the neighbourhood..." His eyes flutter, looking like they are completely out of focus and shooting off in a distance. "I broke off my engagement. Glimmer and I..." he kicks the words out of the corral before he can carefully review the tidbits of information he initially meant to share with Katniss. "We're through."

Katniss' breath hitches in her throat as she glares at him, falling dumbstruck at Peeta's disclosure. She feels lightheaded, but not as befuddled as Peeta currently appears to be, his finger now coiling and poking into his eye. She starts to shake her head profusely. _Glimmer_, she thinks to herself. _What kind of name is Glimmer_.

"Oh no. No...Peeta. I can't believe you did that!" her tone rises in emphasis with each word. She swiftly turns around in disbelief, stomping a few feet away from him and into the shadow. She is still shaking her head, letting out a short, half mockery of a laugh. _I'm a homewrecker. I wreck homes..._ her train of thought doesn't go that far, stuck at a blaring realization and how much everything seems problematic all of a sudden. "...Why did you break up with your fiancee?!" she turns around to look deep into his eyes, needing answers, but at the same time, horrendously delighted. She covers it all underneath a scowl.

"Look Katniss, don't inflate your head over this one, ok? I broke it off based on other factors that does not concern you." One of his blue eyes flinch at her, his irritation slowly multiplying and he's not certain why.

Katniss scoffs and whips back around, trying to distance herself away from Peeta, but ends up only taking two steps sideways as she leers at him. "You're an asshole! And I hope your 'uncle's business' went to hell." The pointy heel of her shoe squeezes itself into a gap through the interlocked slabs of concrete below her and she nearly twists her ankle, letting out a noise that is a cross between a grunt and a scream. Her arms flop upwards as she tries to grab air to support her from crumbling artlessly to the ground, and instead feels Peeta's hands grasp her by the waist from behind.

She turns her upper body around in a daze to look up at him as if she was lit on fire from underneath, wilting yet electrified in his firm, familiar touch. Their heads almost crash together as they breathe in unison through parted lips, their eyes pulling and pushing onto each other. He hovers over her, head dipping dangerously low that his lips lightly brush over hers like a feather. His tongue flicks slowly out to run along his bottom lip, purposely grazing against Katniss'. She sighs as she closes her eyes, trying to maintain her shallow breathing as she feels her mouth turn frozen at the contact with Peeta's tongue. He lingers for another excruciating second before he moves his head upward, dragging the tip of his nose and running it lazily across Katniss' cheek before he completely pulls away.

Katniss reminds her heart to continue pumping blood as she mentally prepares another set of rants to let her pent-up frustrations finally roam free after three years of struggling to move on from their relationship. She takes a deep, encouraging breath but pauses as something catches her attention on his face, aside from his evident bewildered and almost drunk expression. She inches closer as she nudges him back to stand under the weak light of the lamp post, and winces as she spots a big gash on the left side of his forehead, courtesy of her Michael Kors attack. She looks confused, like she doesn't quite know what to do with him, or herself. She steps back and stops herself before her eyes could land again and gaze at the slight pout on his lips.

"You're bleeding."

"Me?...oh I'm sorry...I..." Instead of checking the area where he is currently bleeding from, he scans over Katniss' clothes and shoes to see if he has dripped any blood on her. He suddenly squeezes his eyes shut tightly as a hand extends again to keep his head from physically spinning. "I have a headache..."

Katniss grabs his hand and leads him out of the parking lot, looking at both sides of the street before crossing. She does not have a medical kit in her car, let alone a box of Kleenex to blot out the blood gushing out of Peeta's wound. They remain silent as Katniss drags him along like a child, a look of disappointment crossing her face as she realizes the convenience store in the corner is now closed.

They stand side by side, shoulders touching as they look helplessly at the Walgreens sign above them.

"I should bring you to emergency Peeta. You don't look so hot." Her eyes are worried and slanted at him, peeking to estimate how well Peeta can hold himself up on two legs any further.

His head swings over in grimacing pain as he looks down on Katniss with a smirk. "Did you really want me to suffer for four hours in the emergency room?" He uses his sleeve to lightly dab on the blood that has created two thin trails down from his forehead. She merely wrinkles her nose up at him. "...Gee Katniss, at this rate I'm going to be bleeding for days. I really only wanted to talk..."

"We need to clean and cover up your wound _now_," there is urgency in her voice, underlined with slight panic.

She takes his hand again and makes him march with her to her parked car. The door of the back seat swings open and she throws her bulky bag inside, teetering on the edge of the cushion. She commands him to get in the car and rest his head back on the seat and not say a word while she drives. He sits quietly as he watches other cars appear then disappear on his left, his lower lip jutting out again to resume his pout. He then fixes his stare at Katniss on his left, blinking at her slowly as she casts a sidelong glance at him.

Since she does not want to be bothered driving around trying to flag a store that sells bandaid, alcohol, wash cloth, Ibuprofen and water, she decides to bring him to her house which is located about six minutes away by car. She wrestles with her own protests, thinking that this may be a severely bad idea. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the steering wheel, overwhelmed by a notion that one half of her wants to completely shut him off and just leave him bleeding on the sidewalk, and the other half wanting to yield to what her heart truly yearns for, even if it may hurt some more.

They arrive momentarily and pull up in front of a small bungalow house, the pathway lined up with pansies on each side. Peeta scampers to step out of the car, the pain in his head still throbbing as he sticks a finger to scratch at some dried blood. Katniss materializes in his vision, behind his stretched fingers marked with bits of red. She wraps a hand around his wrist as she walks towards the patio, stopping in front of a bench by the front door.

"Sit there and don't you move," she orders. He doesn't argue, looking delirious as he studies the empty residential street in front of him.

Minutes later she has an arm full of items and joins him on the bench, dropping it on the space between them. He jolts at the cool contact of the damp wash cloth and hisses at the slight fleck of alcohol. Katniss swats his offending hands away as she takes her time dabbing at his wound on his forehead, trying to prevent a smile from curling up her lips. From behind her busy hands, she tries to dismiss his blue eyes boring boldly into hers as she carefully sets the bandaid over the gash for the final touch.

She pulls away and slumps her shoulders as she distracts herself with the alcohol container in her lap. The engine of a truck driving by fills the holes of their silence.

"Nice place you have," Peeta comments as he tips the painkiller pill into his mouth and swallows the whole glass of water in one take. Katniss lets a small breath of air as she glances at Peeta's earlobe and then the bricks that make up her house behind his head. Fatigue kicks in full force and she has lost the zest to continue a conversation with him. Never in her lifetime did she think she would ever feel this awkward around him.

"Yeah...I don't need anything obnoxiously big. Just something cozy," she twists the cap subconsciously, giving a slight jump as her cell phone makes a variety of noises in her bag behind her. She reaches in for it and pulls it out, seeing her mom's missed calls notification and a text message on the screen.

_"Are you coming soon? Willow is getting cranky. She wants to sleep."_

Her sense of time has disappeared and she realizes she is about ten minutes late from picking up her daughter at her mother's. She looks up from her cell phone and tells Peeta to keep her Ibuprofen before she drags him up and off the bench and back to her car. As she drives away and heads back to the plaza across the strip club to drop Peeta off where she found him, she notes that his breathing has become neutral and his eyes seem more alert. They simmer in hollow stillness, minds racing gallantly with different thoughts and questions, but are slowed to a full stop at the tip of their tongue. It is late, and they decide to file the day away.

Peeta rakes his fingers through his hair before his other hand reaches for the door handle and turns to Katniss. "Thanks for repairing me," he says and gives her a slight smile, laughing inwardly at how colossally damaged he really is inside. He decides to keep his walls strong to hide in his broken pieces.

"Sorry for hurting your head," she finally apologizes, her eyes softening a split second before they harden again.

Peeta exhales as his legs begin to stretch. "Sorry for hurting you." His voice has dropped, and he finds himself gathering all will to raise his eyes to look at Katniss.

The gaps of silence seem to stretch wider and wider with each exchange of words, the tense atmosphere growing thick and threatens to escalate at the trigger of either one wrong use of word or wrong tone applied. He begins to gather himself and angles sideways towards the door.

"You left Kentucky because of Glimmer. You left me for Glimmer, true or false," she asks, and realizes she hasn't moved at all from her driving position. Her knuckles curl around the wheel again as she waits for an answer. She could see Peeta fall idle as his hand freezes on the door handle, taking a deep breath. His face is devoid of emotion, but he wants to suppress the barrage of words that will ultimately ball into one grand explanation. He does not feel it's the right time to be completely honest with how bad shit has hit the fan and has trickled down into his gradual decline.

_"Hey Katniss, I was hired as a hit man by some mob head. He pays awesome rate. Forget my day job! Wanna come with me to Texas?" _he thinks to himself and stops from chuckling sarcastically.

Instead, he slowly turns around to face Katniss as he says 'false'. Katniss gestures for him to continue talking, in need to hear something, anything, that can shed her some light so she can finally understand. Peeta presses his lips together as he clicks at the door, but does not swing it wide open.

"In time I will learn how to tell you everything. It would be too much for you right now," he struggles to stitch together his sentence, and the sting shooting down from his forehead is diluting his thought process.

Her head drops as she shakes it violently, her face souring as she closes her eyes. Her agitation is building and she does not want to show her tipping point to Peeta. "Get out," she tells him, opening her eyes and switching her focus on the road in front of her. He complies and shuffles his way out of her car, then bending down to look at her as his hand is poised to close the door.

"I'm sorry...Katniss, please..."

"Please. I have to go," she cuts him off. He finally leaves her alone and steps away from the car, the loud sound of the shutting door resonating into the dead of the night.

* * *

Peeta beams at the sight of the extra controllers for his XBox 360 tucked away in the bottom drawer of his media compartment. He harvests them into his arms and saunters off to the living room, the coffee table resuming its upright position and his rug now free of bundles of money. He plugs each wire into the console and neatly arranges them on the floor, then moves on to the small cans of paint sitting on a large piece of fabric on the floor. He pushes them until the cans are huddled together, grabbing an old, used towel to cover them. On one of the walls in his penthouse suite hangs proudly a massive canvass he is currently working on, almost as wide as the width of the wall itself. His towering bookshelf is mostly occupied by various art books; methods, history and famous iconic artist such as Monet, Dali, and Van Gogh, serving as a divider between the living room and the dining table. There is no organized harmony in the wide space of his condo, rooms and furnitures merely flowing into the next, highlighted by tall bamboo plants in giant vases sitting in random corners, and his own artwork littered across the walls. He shies away from curtains or shutters and keeps his monumental windows bare, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The bedroom is nestled in a corner, bordered by a flimsy sliding wooden door.

He finishes his cleaning labour for the day and as if on cue, there is an insistent rapping on his door.

Call of Duty Black Ops 2 is up waving in his face as he is greeted by Haymitch barging in through his semi-opened door. He steps aside to let Marvel and Cinna follow, leaving their usual trail of mixed noises and unnecessary profanity, reaching down to take off their shoes as per Peeta's house rules and regulations. Cinna pulls him to a quick hug before Peeta closes the door, looking amused at the excitement he is seeing in his friends' faces. They all head straight to the living room, Cinna and Haymitch marking their territory on the couch, and Marvel sprawled lavishly across Peeta's Persian rug. Peeta cringes deep inside.

"I heard this game has gotten rave reviews. I cannot wait for another top gaming experience!" exclaims Cinna.

Peeta glides towards them, then stops to stand still as he watches them get comfortable and set up the game in the console. They pause as they all glare at him.

"Dude. Did you walk into a bad left hook to the forehead?" Marvel asks. Peeta's hand flies up to poke at the bandaid, almost forgetting it was there in the first place.

"Someone tried messing up your moneymaker. Let's beat him," Haymitch suggests, pulling out a miniature Bombay Sapphire from his jacket pocket.

"Relax, boys. It was a..." he fidgets slightly as his lips turn into a sour smirk. "...rough night with a girl. That's all."

The room falls silent, his guests' mouths hanging slightly open.

"Already?," Marvel is awestruck. "I don't know what to feel about that. You just broke up with Glimmer."

"Good. The boy is on the rebound already. Peeta, time to celebrate and whip out the St. Remy. I know where you hide your alcohol," says Haymitch, placing his small bottle of gin on the coffee table.

"Speaking of Glimmer, I saw her yesterday on a date with some guy. I swear the dude looks exactly like you, but he has black hair," Cinna shares with him, lifting a leg and places it on the table as well. "She actually approached me only to introduce the guy to me. Like hell did I care? Not even once did she ever talk to me the whole two years you dated each other and suddenly she was 'happy to see me'!" He imitates Glimmer's high-pitched voice. "Fake bitch."

Peeta takes a spot on the couch and squeezes himself between Cinna and Haymitch, staring at his blue controller waiting to be held. "That's ok. I don't care." He almost shrivels inward and Haymitch catches it. He brings up a hand to flick Peeta's ear hard to get a rise out of him, a look of disbelief on his face.

"The hell is wrong with you. Don't tell me you've gone soft on the edges, basking in girl problems."

"Hey fuck you Haymitch," Peeta says as he tries to ignore the pain on the outer shell of his ear.

"Atta boy!" Haymitch laughs. He twists the cap off his Bombay Sapphire open and hands it to Peeta. Peeta accepts and takes a swig, intaking a sharp breath of air as the liquid sizzles down his throat.

The detailed graphics of the video in the opening theme of the game catch their attention, and Cinna continues to cheer on over the sound effects. Haymitch grows impatient and ventures to raid the drawer that hides Peeta's infamous secret stash of alcohol.

Marvel does half a roll over on the rug to turn to the couch. "Peet, Cinna told me that chick who works in the strip club is your ex. The one who fell on her ass upon seeing you?" he asks, trying to suppress a snicker.

"Yeah she was as surprised as me," Peeta mumbles. "Probably horrified as well."

"No, _she_ was surprised. _You_ were confused and on the verge of passing out," Cinna adds, darting sideways look at Peeta.

"Wow. Finding your ex randomly as a dancer in a strip club," Marvel says, a tinge of wonder and interest in his voice. "I don't know what to feel about that."

"Peeta you gotta tame the dragon before it paints the town red," Haymitch says as he reclaims his seat, hugging a huge box of St. Remy and a litre of Coke close to his chest. Before Peeta could retort, his cell phone starts to ring on the dining table. He emerges from the couch and disappears into his bedroom, the depth of his voice still somewhat audible over the video game as Haymitch and Marvel start to play.

He returns to the living room with a bag of sea salt and vinegar chips.

"Case of the ex?" Marvel noses around as he reacts to the television screen in between.

"No...that was Annie. She was just asking what time she and her friends should come to the opening of my art gallery."

"Annie Cresta?" Cinna asks, incredulous, raising an eyebrow at the name. "Annie Cresta called _you_?"

"Yeah. You guys are going too right?," Peeta shrugs at the disbelief and the approving look on Cinna's face. "It's next week on Saturday. Don't forget. Or I'll hunt down each and one of you assholes."

"You can bet that especially if Annie Cresta is going to be there. And her friends. That's an overload of hot," Haymitch gushes.

"Hey, how come you get all the hot girls Peeta? I'm decent-looking and my mother says so," Marvel pouts, finally sitting upright and leaning back on the coffee table.

"Annie and I are friends," Peeta tries to remind everybody. "Besides, the one whom I really want...she hates me I think." He snorts at himself and his pathetic ounce of confidence, pointing at the piece of bandaid he has been showcasing for a couple of days.

"Aww isn't Mellark's life terrible? You have a Barbie of an ex-fiancee, a brunette stripper of an ex-girlfriend, you have this ridiculous penthouse in the middle of downtown, you have a lineup of luxury cars and you have depressing colours bursting out of your fucking walls. Just terrible," Haymitch spews out, suddenly frustrated at the game and throws Peeta his controller.

Peeta grabs the controller and is quick to resume the game for Haymitch, quick and cunning on the screen. He hollers as he unleashes bullets at his targets, enabling the team to accomplish more and move faster to the next stage. Cinna glances over at Peeta, slapping his back. Peeta lurches forward and brings a fist to cover his mouth as he begins to cough.

"You had a crazy murderous streak there Mellark. Don't tell me you have this secret life as a gun-toting maniac," Cinna says derisively, waggling his eyebrows at Peeta who looks effortless and emotionless as he punches into the controller.

Peeta blows air nonchalantly through pursed lips and blinks at the video game. "I don't know...it's pretty easy. You just shoot."

Haymitch chuckles as he magically reveals glasses prepared and filled in with an assortment of alcohol on the table and starts distributing them. "That would be cool if he did though. But see the boy here can't hurt a fly if his life depended on it." He pauses to point at one of Peeta's paintings near the kitchen. "He paints fucking sunsets."

* * *

The smell wafting in the Asian grocery store is a mixture of burnt cheese on bread from the baked goods section and meat being butchered behind the meat counter just across it. Katniss braces herself on a sharp corner before she turns into the wet market section of the expansive grocery store, slightly fearful of what she might see randomly hanging on a hook. She changes her mind and chooses a safe haven, ducking into dry goods section.

She browses through dried fruits, dried fish, sauce mixes, and endless packages of teas, her eyes flinching at all the words she can't understand. She pulls her phone from her bag and opens an app to read over her saved grocery list. She walks into the candy section and grabs strawberry and chocolate YanYan. She closes her eyes so she won't have to look at the rest of the decorative junk food all longing for her attention, dragging her feet to the end of the isle. She lets out a rough puff of air as she blindly collides into a person as she turns into a corner.

Startled, she glares at the person who is looking down at her, wearing the exact same facial expression.

"I find it amazing that in the three years I've lived here I am only bumping into you now," Katniss greets Peeta with furrowed eyebrows, clinging on to her YanYans and a bag of mangos. She notices the scar on his forehead has not completely healed but he stopped covering it with bandaid.

"Mindblowing. Fancy running into you too, Katniss," Peeta rolls his eyes and studies the items in Katniss' arms. She scoffs as she turns around and starts to walk away. Peeta is quick to follow.

"What, I can't go into my favourite Asian grocery store and get my stock of ramen?" he points his nose down to the cups of instant noodles he is holding close to his chest. Katniss turns around and scans him over.

"Oh my god. We used to live on that back in university," she says, a smile threatening to break on her lips. Peeta suddenly looks excited as he showcases the noodles.

"Yes, see, I have the seafood flavour one, beef, _spicy_ seafood which is your favourite, and chicken," his eyes almost twinkle at the bundles of joy in his arms. He lifts his head to look at Katniss and sees the grin on her face. It catches him off-guard when Katniss begins to reach out and touches his arm quickly before she turns on her heels.

"Wait, uhh...," Peeta starts as he buffers himself before his invitation. "...I was thinking, want to have coffee with me? There's a Starbucks in this plaza and I would love to have a chat with you." Peeta holds his breath and almost forgets to resume breathing. "Please give me a chance." His eyes beg, blinking rapidly as a sign of nervousness.

Katniss stares deep into his set of blues as she feels the ice around her heart melt slowly despite her inner riot. He is knocking on her door again and she still wants to peek from behind before she fully opens it. She thinks of how ridiculous it is that she wants to let him back in, and that he possibly will be the end of her, and also thinks of how ridiculous he looks cradling the stack of instant ramen noodles in his arms. She knows she still loves him, much to her chagrin.

"Peeta, I'm running on an agenda. I'm visiting my dad after grocery shopping. But you can come with me."

"Oh ok. How's big daddy Everdeen anyway and his shipping empire?" he smiles at the positive turn things are hopefully about to take.

"He's dead."

* * *

Peeta stares down at the letter E of Heath Everdeen's last name etched on his tombstone, keeping an eye on Katniss standing on his left at the same time. This was not exactly what he had planned for their 'second' first date. She reaches into her bag and pulls out an old rosary, letting it dangle on a sharp corner of the rock. She closes her eyes as she says a little prayer for her father, lips quickly flipping down into a frown before she begins to break the strange kind of quiet in the cemetery.

"Shot twice in the heart. Right in front of me. I had nightmares for months." She shudders as she feels Peeta's hand, timid at first, then hearing him sigh as he curls his fingers around hers.

"He was always busy with work," Katniss continues, refusing to lift her eyelids and subconsciously gives Peeta's hand a light squeeze. "He would leave home at random times. When I say random, I mean one thirty in the morning. His business ran his life. Then he started telling mom and I that he was heading to this area by the water. Some pier off of Rincon Road," she says as she recalls her father's final days. "He kept saying he had potential customer there. I don't think the place is even on the map! That was the last he ever talked of work."

Peeta perks up at the name of the road but does not visibly react, a new, ghastly thought shifting around and accumulating in his mind. He tries to dismiss the pieces of broken information because it simply does not equate to logic and he shrugs the forming realization away. The pier off of Rincon Road has been deserted for years, littered with abandoned warehouses and merely a junkyard for old, brightly coloured truck loads and massive factory equipment growing magnificent rust. And the only business there that he knows which is concealed and operating under the naked eye is definitely not shipping.


	7. Chapter 7: Sweet Violet

The six-panel front door of the Everdeen house continues to challenge him into a staring duel. Peeta fidgets, threatened by second thoughts and tempted to back out in the last minute. Confused and awkward, he has his guitar and his backpack slung behind his back, and a long, single stem rose in one hand. He hasn't knocked on the door yet, his free hand curled into a fist hanging down his side.

"_The door is still closed. I can make a run for it_," he thinks to himself. Just then, the door swings open and presents Katniss with an amused look on her face.

"You know we all could see you from inside, through the windows," she says. Her dad was making fun of him the whole time and her mother was gleefully delighted watching Peeta summon some guts on the other side of the front door, in complete concentration. Mrs. Everdeen suddenly materializes from behind Katniss and welcomes Peeta with much fervour, causing Peeta to step back out of alarm.

"Hello Mrs. E," he greets her and flashes her a wide grin.

"Oh Peeta, I've asked you to call me Anita! Come in, make yourself at home!" her mother is exuberant and looks more excited than Katniss does. She leans down on Katniss to pretend she's whispering in her ear. "What a sweet boy..." her mother trails off and turns around, walking by her husband who is now too engulfed by the television and yanks him off the couch. Her parents walk up the stairs and disappear, Peeta's attention now on the polka dots of Katniss' slippers. He looks like he is about to either break down, or break the stem of the rose in half.

"Is that for me?" Katniss urges him to start talking, gesturing at the flower.

"This? Oh..." Peeta looks surprised as he remembers the flower in his hand. He pauses to clear his throat and hopes to high heavens that he doesn't trample over his incoming words. "Katniss, I've liked you since I saw you in the cafeteria, and I thought you had an angelic voice. I think you sort of feel the same for me too. Would you like to do homework together and would you like to be my girlfriend?" He finally extends his arm out and offers Katniss the single rose.

Katniss is now fully beaming, red blush scattering over her olive skin. She shyly accepts it and nods at him. "I like you too Peeta."

Peeta is elated and starts to dismantle the bags off his back and ditches the bagpack on the floor. He takes Katniss' hand and walks her to their couch in the living room, making her sit beside him as he positions his hands and prepares the guitar on his lap.

"I wrote a song especially for you. Wanna hear it?" he asks, then his face falls. "I'll have to sing though, and I sound pretty horrible."

Katniss is currently overjoyed, knowing that Peeta rarely, if anything, never sings. The hopeful look on her face tries to encourage him to start. "Please Peeta? I'll still like you even if you're tone-deaf!"

Peeta chuckles and raises an eyebrow. "Alright, you pulled my leg," he straightens the knots in his throat.

He starts to strum the guitar and the vocals are quick to jump into the first notes, oblivious to the hitch in his voice that makes Katniss giggle.

* * *

Peeta's shadow moves quickly down the pitch black alleyway, running in wide leaps and wildly gasping for air. He almost keeps his head low and his knees bent, as if ready to pounce, minimizing his presence in the dark of the night. He keeps an arm straight down as he handles a gun with exquisite firmness and care, aiming it to the ground. He makes a quick decision to duck into the back of a liquor store and hops over bushes, landing on his ass and the side of his arm crashing into a giant garbage bin.

He leans his head back against the hollow of the sheet of metal, accidentally pushing it inwards, turning frozen as he cowers at the sound and the attention it may attract him. His heart is beating out of his shirt, mouth wide open as his chest heaves, attempting to refill his lungs with oxygen. Sweat trickles down and drops off his eyelashes as he brings a finger to poke into his ear. That familiar buzzing in his ear has returned, much to his relief.

"Precious?…" he hears Gale's voice in the earpiece, laced with worry. He is sheltered safely in the armoured van, huddled over his laptop, its weak light flashing into his face as he drags the mouse cursor across a live map and confirms Peeta's location by securing a green blinking dot.

"Damn it. That was a close call. I almost ran out of bullets!" Peeta's voice is thin and shakes as he begins to calm his nerves down. He remembers to put his gun back in his pocket and shrinks his eyes to see if there are any shadows moving towards him. His hands are full of dirt, a crown of sweat bordering his forehead. "I don't think I fully reloaded this gun in the first place."

"I thought I lost you there. Don't quit on me Precious."

Peeta is still breathless, slightly anxious over the sting that throbs in his lungs. _Maybe I should stop smoking_, he thinks to himself. He responds to his own suggestion with a cough. "Gale, not a lot of things spook me, but running out of bullets is one, my mother's Thanksgiving turkey, and the whole slew of terms of endearment you use on me." He pauses to rub the bruise on his arm.

"...Hold on there cowboy, I'm picking you up. The area is clear. You reckless son of a bitch." Gale is barely audible in his earpiece again, the reception in the area not strong enough to hold a ten second conversation as it crackles. "And please stay away from the garbage bin. Somehow you tend to gravitate towards those. You're going to stink up the van again."

* * *

They stand on their usual spot, side by side on the edge of the pier overlooking the water. But it's two in the morning so all they see in front of them is vast darkness, topped with random quick glitters on its surface when the water swirls into waves. The three lamp posts erected on the other side of the crescent of the pier has always served as their light source, one of them starting to fizzle into its final splendor.

Peeta has cleaned the grime off his face and reaches into his front pocket to pull the last cigarette stick in the box. The small flame from the lighter illuminates his face, haggard and hard. It boasts extra layers of grit and spunk earned over the years of perfecting how to kill, however neutralized by his celestial blue eyes. Gale watches him closely from the corner of his eye and feels forced again to end the silence that Peeta seems to enjoy simmering in. Gale rummages through his thoughts and picks the first thing that Peeta may be remotely interested in.

"So how's the old 'new' friend in town? You haven't mentioned anything about her since."

Peeta jerks his head to the side before he blows a cloud of smoke. "I think I may be shit out of luck. She's a distraction," he slips the cigarette between his lips again and intakes a sharp breath. "I can't stop thinking about her, but frankly, I don't think she cares enough to know."

Gale brightens at an idea.

"Tough cookie huh. You should hit up Jinx this Friday. I pulled off a deal and called in Deadmau5 to perform. I got you on this, just go see my boys by the front door and they will let you in. All you have to do is show up," Gale invites him. He co-manages a club in the core of downtown area and also works as one of its promoters, after he resigned from his nine to five job as an IT project manager for a high end retail giant, Saks Fifth.

Peeta shoots him a weak smile and shakes his head. "I don't know Gale. I'm just not the club type anymore."

"Retiring your cape already? Come on, man, you're at your prime, you should be stirring shit up. There will be an impressive array of ladies I can introduce you to."

"I really think I've already stirred enough shit in one lifetime, Gale." Peeta coughs as his mind turns, cooking up an attempt to veer the topic away from himself. "How about you, aren't you seeing anyone? What's her name..." he pauses to think, frustrated that the girl's name is at the tip of his tongue. Gale merely gives him a discerning look and crosses his arms.

"What did I tell you about names."

Peeta closes his eyes to pretend that he's in a deep thought. "Oh, right, not important enough to remember because you rotate girlfriends every couple of weeks. You're a piece of work, Hawthorne," Peeta lets out a short laugh. Gale joins in and chuckles over Peeta, relieved that he is interacting with him.

"I love women like how I love Chinese buffets," Gale says as he accepts the shrunken cigarette stick from Peeta. "Assortment. Abundance."

Gale is more of a social smoker. The only time he will accept a cigarette from someone is if it's from Peeta, because Gale has always perceived that Peeta's behaviour of sharing something he feels strongly for means that he is in Peeta's good books. Despite working many years with him and knowing his capability to take a person's life and end it in a split second, Gale still has not seen the limit of what Peeta can do, and would rather be on his good side. On top of everything, Gale would really rather smoke a blunt. But he doesn't have the heart to tell him.

They turn in unison to the sound a rolling car coming in from a hidden corner and parks by the main door of the warehouse. Seconds tick and it doesn't take long until the car resumes to drive again and crawls towards Gale and Peeta, who have both started walking down the wooden pier to greet the black Lincoln now parked on the concrete before the integration of the plank that continues on to the pier.

The tinted window of the Lincoln rolls down smoothly, revealing a handsome, tanned man with broze coloured hair, sticking his head out of the car window and gives Gale and Peeta a nod.

"Got dragged into another late night, eh Finnick. You look like you've been awake for days," Peeta says, shoving his hands into his pockets and slightly bends down to look into the car. Finnick is employed under Cato as his driver, growing weary of the fact that he has to accomodate to Cato's schedule all the time, regardless of his condition. Finnick's presence is greatly demanded at the snap of Cato's fingers, especially when Cato is in the middle of an operation himself, and Finnick is starting to entertain the idea of quitting because he has formed some type of insomnia over the years. His body clock is severely damaged.

Finnick rubs his hand down his face in fatigue. "Where's Cato? I got some important stuff to do, like resuming my sleep," he complains.

Peeta can't help but feel sorry for the anguish on Finnick's face. Gale shrugs his shoulders and surveys the warehouse, a light switched on in one of the rooms. "I think he's still looking over some files. You know how he is with his fetish for brainstorming and black and white photos of his targets."

Finnick sighs and drops his head onto the steering wheel. "Guys, did you know my blood has been replaced by rivers of Red Bull?" he mumbles into the closed space below the steering wheel. He sits upright and brings up his wrist to check the time on his watch. He peeks outside the car window again to look at Peeta and Gale guarding the car.

"My blood is bubbling over on nicotine, if that makes you feel any better," Peeta tries to cheer him up and fails ultimately.

"I started looking for other jobs. I hope Cato won't mind my future resignation," Finnick wishes out loud. Gale and Peeta exchange glances as they quietly figure out how to respond, careful not to give too much information about how Cato might perceive it, and how bad he may react to it. Peeta happens to think Finnick is Cato's last decent employee that has refused to turn completely corrupt just like him.

Finnick's eyes dart back to the warehouse and restart the engine of the car as soon as he sees Cato's shadow waiting by the door.

"Alright. See you two around. We should go for a drink next week," Finnick suggests as he slowly drives away. "And let's keep the part where I'm planning to ditch Cato only between us? It stays on the pier."

Gale and Peeta nod at him, both hoping that his days are not numbered soon.

* * *

The venti caramel macchiato and cinnamon dolce latte sit snugly in a cardboard tray, still steamy and rich in Starbucks goodness. Peeta's arm that is holding the two massive hot beverages is starting to cramp, and can't be helped by his other hand because it is shaking as it clinches a single stem rose. He is growing impatient over the fact that he hasn't been able to have a proper conversation with Katniss, and if he can't bring her to Starbucks to finally get her to agree to a date, then he's bringing the Starbucks to her house.

It's Saturday, and he is feeling extra good today, acknowledging the baby blue skies and Katniss' novice gardening skills as he observes the pansies, also noting a new set of violet hydrangeas.

"_Time to grow extra balls._ _What could possibly go wrong_."

"_She will slap me for showing up at her door._"

"_She will flip the tray of these ridiculously priced hot beverages into my Armani shirt_."

"_Remember; you screwed everything up. You're an idiot_."

"_Oh Katniss. Ever so loyal to good 'ole Toyota. I wonder what bunny boo is doing inside_."

"_I really want to lick the caramel off this macchiato_. _But I can't. This is bunny boo's_."

Before he realizes it, he is wincing at his new set of Peeta Mellark's Inner Thoughts When He's Not on a Killing Spree, his index finger is pushing into the doorbell. Several times. He could hear Katniss' faint voice coming from inside, shouting 'Hold on!'.

The door swings open and Katniss appears, donned in her glasses, purple pyjama and her hair tied up in a messy bun. One of her eyebrows is comically higher than the other and her lips look like they are eager to form words but she holds still, her hand clutching the door knob. Peeta gives her half a smile.

"Good morning?" he greets her. He watches Katniss' shoulder rise as she intakes a long breath of air.

"Peeta! It's so early! You can't come here," Katniss looks genuinely surprised by his surprise weekend visit. "Go away!"

"First and foremost I apologize for what happened between us," he pauses to untangle his throat. "And it's such a nice day and I was thinking we could, you know, re-acquaint with each other and, well, might as well start as early as ten o'clock," Peeta suggests, one of his foot already forward stepping over the door.

Katniss' head darts over at her driveway and sees his white Lexus parked, in all its sophisticated glory.

"Nice car. It makes my Toyota look like crap."

"Kat, Lexus IS under Toyota.

"Since when did you become so fancy? You've always hated the fancy stuff back then."

Peeta starts to shake his head and flexes his arm that his holding the rose. "Katniss, will you go out on a date with me. Check Yes, or Of Course."

"Peeta I'm in my PJ's. You know I take an hour to get ready," Katniss is slowly losing it.

"We can just hang out here in the bench if you like. Besides, you look fine. I like your bun."

Katniss slams the door shut but he does not pull back nor feel a tinge of discouragement. Peeta finds his finger back at it again, clicking the doorbell with urgency. And he has no plan on lifting his finger off until he sees the door open once again.

Katniss re-appears abruptly behind the door, her face unreadable. She crosses her arms in front of her as she looks Peeta up and down.

"Look, I just wanted to spend maybe a little time with you, or maybe a lot, and I have my favourite shirt on, and these coffees are seriously starting to cramp my arms and also my style, and this rose..." he trails as he offers it to Katniss, suddenly feeling grounded and almost shy. "It's for you."

She looks at the rose solemnly as she purses her lips together as if in deep contemplation, refusing to accept it. She entertains continuing where they left off, but the memories she left in Kentucky that she finds herself digging out is leaving a bitter taste again and suddenly the words are leaping out of her mouth before she could think twice.

"Peeta, a huge part of me died when you left that day. I forgive you, but I don't think I can forget."

"Do you think you were the only one who was hurt when I had to break our relationship? It was tough, Katniss, and I had to live with it for the next three years!" he dips his head low and tries to calm the rise in his voice. "We can forget together by starting again, creating something new, something that will replace all the rough patches. And we didn't even have many. We had it good."

"Exactly! We did have it good didn't we, Peeta?" Katniss' mind is doing choppy loops and spins, suddenly feeling magnetized to his broad chest and has a sudden urge to see what it looks like again underneath that shirt. "I can keep you as a friend."

Peeta is quick to reply. "No. We're either together, or we're nothing."

Her heart is throbbing out of her chest. There is something in him that is new, the firmness and authority in his demand. She wants him to get off her porch, but she does not want to let him go. "What, and hurt me again? Why can't we just be friends?" she demands an answer.

"We _can't_ be friends because I'm still in love with you."

The world screeches into a halt in Katniss' eyes as Peeta takes a wide step in through the door which swings wildly from his charge, pushing her back as she springs away from it. She stops breathing as he closes the space between them, flinging the rose away and lands on the coffee table at his left side. He grabs the back of her neck and yanks her towards him, his tongue darting out and sweeps across her lower lip before crushing his full lips hard into hers. He almost forgets that he is still balancing the Starbucks coffees in one hand as he feels Katniss' hand come up and touch his elbow as her tongue starts to fight back and reach into the roof of his mouth.

Katniss lets out a low hum, feeling revived by a kiss, almost as if it was the first time she ever felt him touching her. Peeta takes another subconscious step forward, his hand wandering off from behind her neck and around to trace her jawline down and rests on the tip of her chin. Katniss plucks her lips off of Peeta's but does not move away, allowing herself as she rediscovers the planes and angles of his face, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin. Peeta looks deep into her eyes, reflecting a look of regret and longing in his blue eyes as his thumb starts to gently caress her chin. He hears a scuffle from behind Katniss and lets his eyes trail away from her face and land on a small person peeking from behind the couch.

His head tilts on one side so he could have a clear view over Katniss' head in front of him, growing curious of a little girl with dark hair and light-brown complexion. Willow blinks at him and sticks her head further out from hiding, one of her legs stepping to the side until she is fully revealed in front of Peeta, locking her hands behind her back.

"...Hello..." Peeta greets her, unsure. Katniss reaches for the tray of coffee in Peeta's hand and takes it away, placing it on the sofa table beside the vases. She smiles at the look on Peeta's face and takes his hand, making him approach her daughter with her, who is now swinging sideways and making her pig tails fly.

"Willow, this is Peeta. Peeta, meet Willow," Katniss introduces the two formally. Willow takes her Pooh bear sitting on the couch and extends her arms to Peeta. He looks confused but maintains his gaze at the bear, and then at Willow, then back at the bear. Katniss leans in close to him and whispers, "You have to shake Mr. Pooh's hand."

He stretches an arm out and holds the stuffed toy's small hand and begins to shake it lightly, delighted at the dimple on Willow's cheek as she smiles. He stands back upright and does not quite know how to react, and proceeds to shoot Katniss a slight smile instead. She studies him closely for a moment, trying to measure his thoughts. His hands dig deep into his pockets as he starts to fidget. Willow starts to sing for her bear.

"She's three. Quite a ball of energy," Katniss says as they both watch Willow twirl around and start singing louder with more feelings.

"She can sing. Just like her mother," Peeta makes an observation. They keep small smiles on their faces as Willow finishes her short song and giggles, holding a new type of fascination towards Peeta as she starts to show off her mild tumbling skills.

Willow lands on her butt and stands up, dusting herself off. "Mommy, is he my new daddy?" she asks with a small hilt in her voice. Katniss almost jumps before she swoops low to have hold of the little girl. Willow's eyes are kept on Peeta, making little sounds of protest as Katniss leads her away. He stands wordless, pissed at what his emotions are currently doing to him. Is he angry? Is he sad? Disappointed? Happy? Confused?

"Ok! It's brunch time! Let's go to your room and meet your furry friends," she says with enthusiasm, trying to get Willow excited for playtime. She turns around to look at Peeta before she heads off, telling him to have a seat and wait for her to come back down.

He lets out an air he didn't know he's been holding as the two disappear. He makes a beeline to the couch and scans her living room, shelves full of pictures of Katniss and her daughter, her late father, and a very old one of her grand father and her when she was a baby. There are colouring books and stuffed toys strewn all over the living room floor, and in the shelf space under the coffee table is a self-help book on parenting. He hears Katniss' footsteps coming from the hallway.

His eyes open wide as he sees what Katniss is carrying in her hands, holding a musical instrument with care and fondness. Katniss glances down on it before she looks at Peeta across the room with disbelief on his face.

"My guitar!" Peeta almost jumps off the couch, feeling a quick surge of happiness at seeing Katniss holding his guitar. A smiling Katniss and his guitar, together, in one visual. It is suddenly too much for him to handle.

"Days after you left, I went to your parents' house to see if you were still there. Then they told me they were as confused as I was, but you were still communicating with them so they knew you were somehow safe." Katniss gives him the guitar. "I took this from your room."

Peeta takes the guitar from her gingerly, and flips it around to check an old familiar memory that marked their relationship, an etching in the wood on the back of the guitar.

_Peeta + Katniss = forever _

He feels something prick his eyes as he closes them, trying with all his might to remail cool and collected. He lowers the guitar onto the floor and pulls Katniss into a gentle embrace, placing his head on her shoulder. His voice is muffled by the fabric on Katniss' pyjama top.

"I'm so sorry. I missed you..."

* * *

They sit facing each other on the ledge of the bay window in the living room, Peeta holding the guitar in his lap with one foot on the floor and Katniss' both legs crossed in front of her. She holds her caramel macchiato nestled in her hands as she blows into the steam, having to reheat their coffee in the microwave. She watches Peeta absorbed, tuning his guitar, strumming each string and judging each note they produce. She takes a languid sip of her beverage.

"So...really, you look like you're rolling big with your Lexus," Katniss suggests. "However I still like your used, beat-up Mercedes."

"Ah yes. My first shit box."

Katniss shakes her head, amused. "You can't have Mercedes and the word shit in one sentence. That never makes sense."

Peeta tears his eyes off the strings of his guitar and looks up at her, gazing at Katniss and smiles tenderly. If he looks any closer, he could almost tell that Katniss' eyes are fluttering at him.

"What?" Katniss asks, a corner of her lip tugging up.

"Nothing. I haven't smiled like this in a very, very long while. It almost hurts," his head bows down again to his guitar. "I think I like it." One of his hands detach from the guitar and pick up his cup of coffee, taking a long swig before he places it back down on the ledge beside him. Katniss returns his smile as she takes another sip, her eyes showing a little twinkle. He continues.

"I know what you're thinking, that I'm living off my parents' wealth even from all the way down here in Texas," he pauses as he emphasizes his words with Texan accent, and reaches for something in his pocket and pulls out a small flyer, embossed and laminated. "Well, here's what I do."

Katniss takes the promotional card he offers her. It's an exclusive invitation to the grand opening of his own art studio in the most posh area of downtown.

"You have your own gallery now?" Katniss' hand comes up to her chest, her expressions are of excitement and pride.

"It's crazy sometimes, the items that people buy and what they would gladly pay for. That's my target market right there," he lets out a small chuckle and strums his guitar, nodding his head. "I want you to come to the premiere. Please?" He asks, giving her a pout and puppy eyes. She nods as she leans over and touches the tip of his nose with hers.

"How about you, what is up with that...night shift of yours," Peeta suddenly can't meet her eyes, feeling embarassed to ask.

"Well my 'night shift' job definitely adds to my flow of income. I need to support my daughter, right?" Katniss looks out the window and watches cars and family vans drive by. "I want her to have the best of things, everything I didn't get to have while growing up." She turns to look back at Peeta and catches him watching her intently. "I work weekdays as a financial planner."

Peeta looks impressed. "Then you don't need to be a dancer. Just saying," he tries to hint at her. Katniss does not respond because she does not want to argue over her taboo sideline at the moment. She finishes her coffee and tries to get more comfortable in the cushion of the ledge they are sitting on.

"Peeta. Just shut up and sing me my song."

* * *

She walks him to the doorway. It's almost two pm and Peeta's phone has been vibrating in his pocket in the past hour. He quickly glances at it and starts to excuse himself. He slings the guitar over his back and straightens out his shirt. Katniss is mere inches behind him, almost gets hit by the tuning pegs as he turns around right before he passes through the door.

"Willow is such a cute girl. I can see the resemblance," he gestures at Katniss's face and she smiles.

"Thank you. She makes me happy when my skies are gray," she gushes over her daughter, fixing the wide-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

Peeta nods, suddenly looking trapped. He has been meaning to ask something but is finding it difficult to even begin, let alone how to ask. Katniss notes the struggle on his face and moves closer to him.

"If you don't mind sharing. Who is her father?" Peeta finally blurts out.

Katniss starts to shake her head, almost huffing in sudden fatigue. "Oh. I don't think you'd know him, Peeta. Texas is, you know, big."

"You never know, I've seen the expanse of Texas. I might know a couple of people around here," he boasts, encouraging her to answer honestly. "Try me."

Katniss looks long and hard at him, eyes flying everywhere at his face except his eyes. Her lips begin to move, taking a deep breath before the name pushes out of her mouth.

* * *

I take one step away

But I find myself coming back to you

My one and only, one and only you

-Parokya Ni Edgar

* * *

**A/N: I appreciate every single review/fave/follow! I eat them up, I love em so! I happily accept donations in form of reviews :D**


	8. Chapter 8: Dull Gray

The loose bits of asphalt underneath his boots scratch into the ground before they fling off from the soles, emphasized with each heavy, rushed step he takes. There is an angry kink in his eye he hasn't been able to smooth out, his fists curling into a ball dangling on his sides and his vision focused on mainly nothing below him. He's swallowing big volumes of air as his chest rises yet maintains his shoulder frozen and tense. The relentless sun beats down into his cowboy hat shadowing most of his face, and he finally detaches his eyes off of the tips of his boots and raises his head.

He squints at the grandeur of the water ahead of him, sparkling under the blast of the sun. The old wooden pier covered in dirty white paint juts out into the sea and stretches thirty feet long, and on the end of it stand Cato and Gale chatting, facing the water. Peeta spots them, looming closer into view as he continues to stomp furiously in their direction, gritting his teeth as he loudly chews on a nicotine gum. Cato turns around at the sound of Peeta's incoming footsteps, followed shortly by Gale turning on an angle to also acknowledge his strong presence.

His boots lodge onto the wooden pier as he barrels on through, his fingers continuing to coil and uncoil until his knuckles turn a paler shade of white. His nose wrinkles at the smell of weed. He tips his hat slightly as a quick greeting.

"Do you know Katniss Everdeen?" he asks the wind as he stops at a few inches from the two, struggling to suppress his voice from booming into a shout. He doesn't question anyone in particular, his head aimed at the empty space between Gale and Cato, but his eyes are drilling sideways at Gale.

Gale is devoid of emotion as he turns around completely to face Peeta. "What's it to you?"

Peeta shrugs with a tinge of disinterest. "Just a potential buyer of my art. She said you recommended me."

"Sounds familiar. She was hounding me for child support," Gale admits, lifting an arm up to place the blunt between his lips. "Finally got tired chasing me down though."

"Interesting tale, bro," Peeta says with a straight face, gesturing Gale to continue telling the story. "What a leech. How did you meet her?" One of his eyes flinch but Gale is oblivious and unsuspecting.

"Bumped into her in Jinx a long time ago. She said she was new in the state and was feeling lonely, looking to have a good time," Gale pauses to chuckle. "So I showed her a really good one." His shoulders heave as he hacks from the smoke. "She was…wow. Got the tiger purring like a kitten."

Gale's blunt flies out of his mouth as Peeta connects his right fist into Gale's left jaw at the release of bottled rage. Gale's head flings wildly from the strike but is quick to recompose himself, glaring down at Peeta with an abrupt streak of confusion on his face. Gale breathes sharply through his nose and raises an arm to wipe a drool on his cheek, eyebrows furrowed and calculating how much pain he wants to inflict on Peeta. Peeta's expression sours further as he gathers more strength and packs it down to his fist again. He pulls back his arm to collect momentum before he takes another rapid swing forward, this time landing a blow into Gale's left eye. Gale stumbles and falls back this time, cautious not to dive over the edge of the pier. His hand comes up to cover the area around his eye which is now transforming into purple. They don't pay an ounce of attention to Cato who is bellowing over the brawl unfolding in front of his eyes.

"Peeta! Calm your tits and back off, man!" Cato flips out, attempting to shove Peeta back but Peeta is adamant in swatting his hands away.

"No! My tits refuse to be calmed!" Peeta inches forward and Cato's palm lands on his chest, trying to stop him from kicking Gale who is winking off the newly-formed haze in his vision.

As soon as Gale finds his legs again and before Cato could intervene any further, he lunges forward at Peeta and grabs a fistful of his collar with one hand while the other one eagerly pummels him down in the jaw. Peeta's gum shoots out through his lips from the hard impact as his head pulls back. He blinks as he gives Gale an appreciative look.

"Thank goodness. I hated that gum."

"What the hell, Mellark?" Gale breathes hot air into Peeta's face as he keeps his grasp on his collar. Peeta looks up at him with a sick smirk on his lips.

"The first hit was for Katniss," Peeta tries to wriggle out of Gale's hold. "The second one was for your daughter, you reckless son of a bitch!"

Gale's face moulds into a realization, connecting the pieces of a surprise puzzle together.

"You know, I could've let you died a hundred times, prettyboy. Remember that," Gale threatens him, some of his spit marking their territory on Peeta's face. "You owe me!"

"No. You owe Katniss a substantial amount of money for child support, and you owe your daughter substantial amount of time you robbed her off. And I'm going to see that it happens, you hear me Hawthorne?" Peeta makes his small list of high demands from Gale.

"Why don't you tread lightly in other people's business," Gale says, tightening his grip on Peeta's shirt that it's starting to wrinkle. "Or stick your nose completely out of it."

Cato spots Peeta's arm creeping up again, preparing for another punch aimed at Gale's nose and impulsively jumps Peeta before any of them realizes it. Cato spins him around to face the water and pushes him dangerously close to the edge, trapping his arm and reducing him immobile into a headlock. Peeta's cowboy hat sits tilted on his head, almost covering one of his eyes. He begins to flail his arms, trying to slide off of Cato's locked hold around the back of his neck. Half of his boots are hanging over the pier, flirting with thin air, as he studies the hue of the water moving below him.

"Listen. These issues do not have to be resolved by violence. We can talk everything out, alright Peeta?" Cato talks to him in an eerily calm tone from behind his back, with an air of a father figure. "Like civilized gentlemen."

Peeta begins to laugh uncontrollably, possibly scaring all the fish, making Cato and Gale glance at each other. Peeta catches his breath in a hiss.

"Cato, that was the most ironic, stupidest shit that has ever come out of your mouth."

Cato suddenly yanks him from dangling over the water and throws him aside, much to his own disappointment. Cato originally wanted to straighten his ass by chucking him overboard for a quick splash, but had the decency to think ahead and reminded himself that Peeta actually can't swim. Peeta's body makes a loud thud as he crashes onto the plank, his hat finally slipping off his head and landing about a foot away from him. He closes his eyes as he lets the back of his head rest on the wooden platform, trying to clear his mind from its current jumbled state.

They hear a pair of running footsteps approaching them, all glancing to the side to see Finnick with a distressed look on his face.

He stops as he sees Peeta's idled, sprawled figure. "What did I miss?" Finnick darts a look at a bewildered Cato and an infuriated Gale.

They watch as Peeta writhe slightly on the pier, then proceeds to turn around to lie on his stomach. His knees begin to bend inwards underneath him and slowly hold himself up until he stretches and is back to standing on his two feet. He reaches for his hat that has fallen off his head and dusts himself off, straightening his collar with swag. There is a limp in his walk as he marches away, cursing at a pain he feels on an ankle, leaving the three men perplexed by his behaviour.

"I'm not done with you Mellark," Gale calls out as Peeta reaches the beginning of the pier and onto the concrete. "I'm gonna run you down!"

Peeta glances at all their luxurious cars parked in no absolute fashion, specifically eyeing down Gale's.

"Yeah, yeah, you and your..." Peeta pauses as he buffers up, lifting his leg and angrily kicks down the door of the silver car with enough power to lift it an inch higher. "...your stupid Boxster." The car jolts up from the push and lands its two tires back onto the ground, making Gale grimace. But Peeta deflects from the impact against the shiny chunk of metal and sends him toppling backwards, almost losing his balance, one of his hands flying up to adjust his hat. He continues to tread away as if nothing happened.

He decides to leave his car behind as he keeps walking, disappearing in between the smaller warehouses in the compound. He hides underneath the lid of his hat, feeling a quick pang of anger towards Katniss, and something he thinks must be categorized under jealousy. Everything is just starting to sink in, the fact that Katniss has a child with someone else, especially having trouble fully accepting that it's Gale's. He lurches forward, grabbing his stomach, choking on either disgust or some piercing kind of pain.

_This can't be fucking happening._

He reviews his life as a whole and mentally jots down all the things that went wrong and slipped off beyond his control. And in between memories of how hard he struggled to put an arm around Katniss while watching Independence Day on their first date and the warmth she exuded when she jumped into his arms the moment they agreed to go to the same university, the sound of rolling tires crunching against asphalt breaks his broken reverie. He watches Cato's head stick out from the window.

"Get in the car," Cato commands from the back. Gale is silent in the passenger seat, staring at the windshield and Finnick still looks clueless from behind the wheel. "Sit beside me, Peeta."

* * *

It's stuffy in the room, raided by hanging puffs of smoke and topped by the pungent smell of beer. Peeta's hat sits near the stack of napkins, Cato sits strategically between Gale and Peeta, and Finnick decides to be social and plays billiard with random strangers, constantly changing tables. The three are hunched over the bar, barely exchanging words to each other. Cato flags the bartender and orders more shots for Gale and Peeta. Peeta has his arms crossed on the bar and his head resting over it, trying to bury his nose into the hollow. His eyes are closed but he keeps his right ear open, listening to Cato start a chain of small, shallow talks. He is caught off-guard as Cato guffaws at his own random joke and slaps Peeta's back, causing him to jerk his head up. He swings around and glares at Cato.

"Why am I here?" Peeta whispers, almost in tears out of boredom.

"Maintaining a healthy relationship with your work partner is very important. I can't have the two of you strangling each other because of petty things." They could hear Gale snort on the other side. "You require each other's assistance," Cato continues.

Peeta chuckles as he takes a shot glass and inhales the liquid without any chaser. Gale moves to peek at Peeta from behind Cato.

"I don't need nobody," Gale says as a matter of fact. "He's wandering idiot without me."

"I dare you to play Duck Hunt with me," Peeta threatens him with a laugh.

Cato curls his fist and slams it into the bar. "Both of you will get along with each other. By the end of tonight you will kiss and make up or I'll bash your heads in together!" Cato grunts as he gets off his chair, hailing Finnick somewhere in the back of the room. They disappear into the smoke and out of the bar.

Minutes stretch into what seem like hours. Johnny Cash songs stream out of speaker boxes and mellow down the rowdiness of the crowd growing restless. The two glance at each other from the corner of their eyes, a little hesitant. Gale was the first to reach out to the parade of shots Cato bought for them and pushes one towards Peeta.

An hour and a dozen of beer bottles and ten tequila shots later, Gale is especially shit-faced and teetering in his seat, listening to Peeta with an incredible amount of intensity and interest. His dark brown eyes are cloudy and so is his mind, but is still able to register Peeta's drunken, glamorously dramatic monologue.

"I swear I was just sittin' there, minding my own business..." Peeta pauses as he lets out a careless burp. "...juss playin' good ole Wonderwall. And...she juss...started singing along!"

"Juss like that?" Gale asks as his arm slides across the bar and bumping off empty shot glasses.

"Juss like that! Right there and then...when I heard that voice, and when I saw that smile, those dimples...and her hair braided down on one side," he lolls his head back and appears to be almost tipping over, but he sits back upright. "I knew I was a goner."

"Bro..." Gale tries to point out his index finger at him. "You got it bad bro."

Peeta lifts a hand up and tries to pick up his half empty beer bottle but ends up petting it instead. "Kat-nuss...she was my high school sweetheart. And my college sweetheart." His fingers can't seem to curl around the neck of the bottle and it slips off his clumsy grasp and falls off the bar, the noise of the shattering bottle against the floor generating growls and cheers from behind. "She's e'rthing," he skids over his words.

Gale hangs his head, gradually swinging it side to side.

"Bro...if I knew...about Katniss...and you have history together..." he trails, bringing up two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't have... you know..." he lets out a big hiccup and takes a deep breath. "I wouldn't. You should know that I wouldn't..."

Peeta starts to reach out and offers Gale a sloppy pat in the back. "It's alright bro...I juss need you to do the right thing now..." he slurs comically, trying to maintain a serious look on his face as his eyelids droop.

"I wouldn't do that to you Peet!" Gale says, followed by a bunch of gibberish that Peeta doesn't bother to decipher anymore.

"Ok. I think...," Peeta rotates in his chair and attempts to get off, his leg feeling boneless as he almost takes a nose dive into the floor. "...You've had enough Cuervos," he whips out some cash and doesn't bother counting, spilling the bills on the bar. Peeta's high tolerance for alcohol outweighs Gale by a great margin, as Gale is not a big drinker at all. Gale has learned over the years that he suffers the worst type of hangovers and he has cursed alcohol back in university. That and he turns painfully honest and overly emotional.

"I am going to dump you into your car, and you're going to camp in there tonight, ok?" Peeta starts to pull Gale off the chair and he almost collapses square into Peeta. "There ain't no way you're driving, Hawthorne," Peeta grunts as Gale transfers all his weight onto him.

Peeta takes his arm and slings it across his shoulder, while his other hand holds the small of Gale's back as support. Gale can't even keep his head up anymore, and has turned silent as Peeta tries to guide him out of the bar, the blind leading the blind.

* * *

_So if by the time  
__The bar closes  
__And you feel like falling down  
__I'll carry you home tonight_

_-FUN_

* * *

She is spending another night at her grandmother's. Willow squeezes Pooh Bear into her arms as she sits in the middle of grandma's couch while watching Berenstain Bears on TV. She wiggles her feet as she interacts with the cartoon, tinged with innocent joy and excitement that only a child knows. Little does she know of what is transpiring just a wall over in the kitchen.

Katniss is preparing to leave and allocate three hours of work at the strip club, zipping her bag open and shoving her three-inch stilettos inside. She grabs the jacket she placed over the counter top and inserts her arms through the sleeves. Her mother is right behind her, looking disheveled and agitated. She is trying to lower her voice but her anger keeps fueling at Katniss' complacency.

"He is missing another payment?! This is enough. You take Hawthorne's sorry ass to court, Katniss, you hear me?"

Katniss is too tired to deal with her mother's current reproach, continuing to button down her jacket. She lets out a small, surprised gasp as she feels her mother's claws on her forearm, flagging her attention. "At this point, you are losing out on way too much. Stand up for yourself and quit being a pushover!" her mother says, almost grinding her teeth together.

"Mother! I can support my own, I work hard. I don't need to hunt down after a man's riches," Katniss is defiant, shrugging her mother's hand off of her.

"You are a fool," her mother says with a look of revolt in her face. "If you made smart desicions, you wouldn't need to work in that whore house."

"Yeah? I like it. I get my temporary fix of appreciation and attention. Because God knows I'm deprived of it," Katniss hisses, emphasizing the word God.

Katniss' mother finally steps away from her and crosses her arms over her chest, wincing at Katniss.

"You fix your wreck of a mind, my child. Or I'll have to resort to drastic measures."

Katniss stops to even out her breath before turning slowly to face her mother. "Don't you dare even play with the idea of taking my daughter away." She swallows a lump in her throat, knowing that once her mother gets an idea, it doesn't ever leave her.

The tension in the kitchen suddenly fizzles down at a recognition of a small sniffing sound coming from the living room. Katniss drops her bag back on the counter and slides away, quick to react to any sounds Willow is making. She slows down her pace as she approaches her small body shrink on the couch, still clutching to her Pooh bear. Willow looks up at her with sad eyes, and lips quivering as little tears roll down her cheeks. Katniss' heart almost splits at the sight, her knees automatically kneeling on the floor as she cups her daughter's face between her hands.

"What's wrong baby?" she asks, alert and worried. Willow's nose crinkles and raises a hand to wipe at it. Her other hand comes up and points at the animated bears on TV.

"Daddy Bear loves little bear," Willow sobs. "I'm a little bear, but I don't have a daddy?" Her small lips begin to tremble again as her fingers come down and rest on Pooh bear's stomach.

"Baby, you do have a daddy," Katniss' voice hitches, having difficulties explaining to her daughter who seems to have a developing understanding of her surroundings.

"But daddy doesn't like me..." she hiccups as she begins to cry uncontrollably. "He's not here..." her eyes squeeze shut as she ducks her head behind Pooh bear. Katniss chokes back a tear and stops herself from weeping, reminding herself to stay strong. She has been standing solid and independent most of her life, and a part of her is depressed at the fact that she thinks she is only that way because she has been pushed to be alone. She moves forward and smothers Willow into an embrace, hugging her tight as she tells her sweet nothings.

"Mommy loves you, little Willow," she whispers into her daughter's ear. "Mommy loves you so much." She leans over to kiss Willow's cheek as the little girl resumes to look up at her again, her gray eyes rimmed with fallen tears.

Katniss climbs on the couch with her to watch the rest of the cartoon show, not leaving Willow's sight. She doesn't bother to call in at the strip club to notify anyone of her last minute absence. They both fall asleep, curled on the couch as the night progresses, Katniss' mother watching her and her grand daughter in peaceful slumber. She takes a blanket from the hallway closet and quietly approaches them in the living room, laying it over the two of them. She sits on the loveseat from across the couch and buries her head in her hands, and starts to silently weep for her daughter.

* * *

The next day at about six pm, Katniss is scolding at herself for being disappointed that Peeta has not called yet. He usually leaves a good morning text message first thing at six and calls her around lunch time to chat while she is out having lunch with coworkers. She paces back and forth in the living room, lifts her cell phone up to her face to check if there are any messages, then regains her pace.

She takes Willow to Toys R' Us and lets her run amok in the store. By the end of the night, Willow has a brand new monster puppet creation kit and also a Cabbage Patch doll she names Darcy. She sings in the car on the way home, an indication to Katniss of how elated she is. Katniss smiles as they reach home and locks the door behind her.

She cleans a little in the living room, now that Willow is pre-occupied by her new toys. She passes by the picture frames, and the slim vase that holds the rose stem that Peeta gave her. She sighs as she looks at it, coming into terms and finally admitting that she misses Peeta, more than she would normally allow herself.

Before she knows it, she's overthinking, and can't help but be bothered that Peeta may change and perceive her differently now after finding out that she has a daughter. A part of her regrets that she should have introduced Willow and Peeta to each other after it is clear to her what Peeta's current intent or motives are.

It's around ten when her cell phone starts to ring and Peeta's picture flashes on the screen.

"Hi," she greets him. Peeta doesn't respond right away and Katniss hears a faint sound of liquid slushing.

"Hello."

Katniss rolls her eyes and exhales in an exaggerated fashion. "Where are you?"

"Right outside your door."

Katniss hangs up the phone and almost leaps to the door, turning the knob and takes in the sight of Peeta, wearing an old pair of washed out jeans with random holes on one leg, a white tank top and his black cowboy hat. He has a mysterious grin on his face and an opened bottle of red wine in his hands, trying to hide it behind his leg. He is sporting a brand new cut on his left cheek, albeit a small one, and his neck holds a thin gloss of sweat.

"You've been drinking, and you're hurt," she states the obvious.

Peeta darts his head down behind him and reveals the wine, then glances up at Katniss. "Guilty as charged." Katniss grabs the bottle from his hands as Peeta lets himself through the door.

"Really, Peeta, you look like you've been through hell and back again," Katniss says, but doesn't add the fact that she is finding him incredibly sexy and rugged. She feels the need to kill her unnecessary thoughts before she could form the decision to jumps his bones.

"I fell and rolled all over the place while I was painting," he looks sheepish and shoots her a smile. "It's dangerous, being an artist."

Katniss shakes her head and takes his hat off, placing it on the table then reaches out to ruffle his untamed blond hair. She lifts her arm that is holding the wine and reads the label, Masi. "Thanks for sharing with the class."

* * *

Peeta has spread himself across Katniss' couch, eyeing her down lazily as she sits on the floor by his feet with her back leaning against the couch. She stares at the cover of her parenting self-help book and takes a big swig of the red wine. Her face screws as the liquid trickles down her throat. She turns her head to look at Peeta and catches him already staring at her.

"So...with Gale...how did it happen?"

Katniss' initial reaction is to be irked but she is amused instead. "How 'it' happened? You really want to know, Peeta?"

"I mean, shit, I mean how did he approach you...what did he say. Stuff like that..." he mumbles through ajar lips and trails off.

Katniss lifts herself off the floor and draws closer to Peeta using her bent knees. "Peeta. All I remember was that I did not find him as charming and gorgeous as you." She pauses to give him a warm smile. "Besides, what you're asking is insignificant now..."

"Were you interested in something more?" he cuts her sentence off. "Were you meaning to turn to your friends and squeal to them how much you liked him."

The alcohol is peeling off her hard layer as she feels like she's starting to float out of her body, chuckling too close into Peeta's ears. "I felt nothing for him. I was drunk and dejected from my losses." _My loss over you, over my father_, she thinks to herself. The wine is warm in her stomach and is doing wonders, further loosening her thoughts and inhibitions. She shrugs her shoulders. "And that's all there was."

"Not really. He left you something to remember him by."

"Gale doesn't mean anything to me," she insists.

Katniss' eyes skim over Peeta's face, from the stubbles on his chin to the sharp angles of his jaws, also lightly covered with short facial hair. His staggering blue eyes underneath long lashes peek at her as he blinks slowly, and she marvels at the slight pout of his luscious bottom lip. She kicks her reservation out the window and swoops low, landing a long, wet kiss on Peeta's mouth. Their eyes shut in unison, electrified at the mere contact of lips to skin. Katniss' twinge of increasing arousal sends goosebumps rolling down her arms.

Peeta emerges from the couch and sits up, his hand coming up to brush against Katniss' cheek and drags her up and off the floor. Katniss lifts her legs up and places them on the couch, tightly straddling Peeta as her hands find the back of his neck. Peeta pulls back from the kiss and lets his hands roam, sneaking in from underneath Katniss' white shirt and gliding his palm up her torso. He bites his lip as he cups her breasts, fondling and massaging them while he pushes them up together. He flicks his fingers over her taught nipples, watching the curves of her breasts move under her shirt as his hands mark their territory on them.

Katniss lets out a soft moan, and abruptly stops herself at a realization. Willow is sleeping in her bedroom and she does not to stir the house awake.

"My room. Now," she says with urgency, right before Peeta could discard her shirt completely.

As soon as the door lock clicks behind her, Katniss doesn't think twice and grabs the bottom of Peeta's tank top and lifts the whole garment off over his head. She lets her hands run all over the width of his chest and the muscles on his shoulders, then moves forward to lick the dip below of his neck. She feels her own hands fumble over the button and the fly of his jeans, giving it a forceful tug downwards along with his boxers. Her eyes magnetize to his erection that springs out in front of her, and her hands itch to stroke it. But Peeta reaches down and discards her pyjama bottom and her panties in one swift movement, leaving her shirt on that is hitched up over her breasts. He lifts her up and lets his tongue dart out to press against her nipples then proceeds to envelop them in his mouth.

"Aaahhh...I love what you can do with you tongue..." Katniss hisses.

"I can do plenty of other things with my tongue," his voice is coarse and deep as his eyes look up and drill directly into hers. He steps backwards, still carrying Katniss in his arms with her legs locked around him. He sits on the edge of the bed and lets his back fall all the way until he is lying down on the mattress, letting go of Katniss who has her knees now planted on either of his sides. He luxuriates at the sight of her bare crotch that is mere inches away from his face. She looks savage as she stares down at him, watching as he opens his mouth to mumble. "Do you want to feel it?"

"Yes..." her eyes are intense as she cranks her neck to the side. She finally sends her shirt flying across the room.

Peeta breathes heavily as his cock twitches below him, in need of attention. His hand creeps down and wraps around his erection, and begins to pump himself languidly.

"I want you to touch yourself first," he growls his demand. Katniss looks possessed as she concedes, letting her hand slide down her body and onto her pussy, rubbing against her opening then darts her middle and the index fingers out. She flings her head back as she dips her fingers into herself, dragging out some of her wetness as she pulls them out. She repeats this until she realizes she has started to drip and has left a thin trail down her inner thigh.

"You're so wet. I can use my tongue if you want me to lick you clean," he suggests, his eyes glued to her fingers that are continually disappearing into her slick folds.

She is breathless. "Yes..." and that's all she manages to say.

"Come closer and rub your pussy anywhere you want on my face."

Her heart beats faster as she drags her knees forward and positions herself before she deposits her throbbing core down onto his mouth. His tongue latches into her folds, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks in her juices. Katniss' knees start to shake as she peers down at Peeta below her, eating her out gingerly. His hands come up to her waist to pull her down even more as his lips trap her clit in between, his tongue snaking through to flick it rapidly and taste it. She struggles to keep her screams of pleasure from exiting her throat as she begins to bounce up and down into his swirling tongue.

Peeta's lips create a loud smacking noise as he plucks his mouth off her pussy and moves up to roll her off of him. He pushes her down to lie on her side, facing the edge of the bed. He shifts behind her and reflects her exact position, the tip of his hardness prodding her back. He holds himself as he guides his hard cock into her heat, poking forward twice at her opening before he thrusts all of him through her swollen folds. Katniss closes her eyes as he stretches her, reaching for a pillow and bites it hard to prevent herself from making a variety of primal noises.

"Shhhh..." She could hear Peeta whisper from her back.

He places a hand on her inner thigh and lifts one of her legs up to give him a better angle, enabling him to drive his cock into her deeper as he fucks her blind and furiously from behind. His mouth lands on her neck as he bites and nips on her skin there, tasting the salt of dry sweat. Katniss' head almost clashes into the headboard as he pushes into and rubs up and down against her back, pumping his hard length into her aching core in a consistent, rough pace. His hand lets go of her leg and it skims over the goosebumps and every small freckle of her skin, reaching over her to scoop and grope her breast from behind.

They crash and burn, and crash again, Katniss answering Peeta's unpolished grunts with her suppressed whimpers and moans. She is reaching closer to the edge, and by the way she feels his cock twitch wildly inside of her, she thinks he isn't very far. He howls his final push as his freed hand comes up to cover her mouth as an attempt to silence the beginning of her bliss-driven shrieks, the muscles on his arms flexing tightly as he gasps for air.

* * *

Katniss forces herself to get off the bed to use the bathroom. It's around four thirty in the morning and it's Wednesday, making a mental reminder for herself that it's three more days until Peeta's art studio opening. She turns on the lamp on the end table and glances at Peeta on the other side of the bed, barely covered by a thin blanket, lying on his stomach and completely naked. She saunters towards the door and almost yelps as she steps on something laid out on the floor. She looks down and fetches Peeta's discarded pants.

There is something peeking out of the front pocket littered with messy blots of dark red that catches her attention. She pulls the fabric all the way out and realizes it's a handkerchief he has tried to shove in. And the longer she studies it to try to make it out, the more she realizes that the red marks are not the design pattern of the handkerchief. They're blood stains, dried and swept across the fabric. Her eyebrows furrow, confused and suddenly conscious of what she is currently discovering about the old, but not so familiar lover in her bed. She reaches deeper into the pocket, curious of the hard solid she felt under her foot earlier, and digs out empty, brass alloy shell casings of a Glock 27 Gen 4 40SW gun.

* * *

_Love, love of mine_  
_Won't you lay by my side_  
_And rest your weary eyes_  
_Before we're out of time..._

_No I am not where I belong_  
_So shine a light, guide me back home_

_-City and Colour_

* * *

**A/N: Any observations/complaints/praises and rants are always lovely and welcomed**


	9. Chapter 9: Sunset Orange

_Blue jeans, white shirt  
Walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn  
It was like James Dean for sure  
You're so fresh to death & sick as cancer  
You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop  
But you fit me better than my favourite sweater  
and I know that love is mean, and love hurts  
But I still remember that day we met in December_

_I will love you til the end of time.  
-Lana Del Rey_

* * *

The creeping ray of sunshine crawls over the contours of his face, the most innocent when he's sleeping. He stretches his limbs into consciousness and drags out a yawn, turning over to pat the empty space of bed beside him. He springs to sit upright a little too quick that it makes his head spin, scoffing at a tug of quick pain on his temple. His legs swing to the side and huffs as he wrestles with himself trying to stand up. He looks at the far end of the bed and spots a folded clean towel and a toothbrush that is still sealed in its packaging.

"Oh Katniss..." he almost sighs, lavishing in the rare feeling of being taken care of.

Ensuring that the door is closed properly before he glides across the room naked, he drags his feet to the ensuite bathroom and jumps inside the shower stall, not minding the initial shock of cold water. As the water warms up, he picks up the bar of soap and scrubs himself off tediously, especially the small cut on his cheek. He hisses then chuckles, belting out to More Than Words like a maniac in the stall. He eyes down Katniss' shampoo and smirks at it.

"_'Awapuhi Ginger. Indulge in a lavish, moisturizing creamy formula infused with the Hawaiian beauty secret of nutrient rich awapuhi ginger extract to instantly mend and soften dry, coarse hair_.'" He opens the lid and catches a whiff. "Why the hell not."

He steps out of the shower and brushes his teeth, wrapping the damp towel over his waist . He saunters back to the bedroom and starts to look for his forgotten clothes from last night on the floor. But something new demands his attention, sitting on the same spot where he found the towel and the toothbrush earlier. He almost forgets to exhale as he stares at his jeans, his tank top and his underwear, all clean and folded on top of each other. And beside the pile is his handkerchief, compacted into a small square. Completely free of blood stain.

"...Oh shit."

* * *

He emerges from the hallway and sneaks a look at Katniss sitting in the dining room, holding a mug with both hands as she blows air into the steam. Across the length of the dining table is another mug of coffee she made for Peeta, one cream and one sugar. She places her mug down in front of her as she acknowledges him approaching the table slowly yet surely, his eyes sharply set on her. She tilts her head up as he leans down on her to kiss her forehead, mumbling his good morning. He turns and walks away to claim the empty chair on the opposite end of the table.

"What time do you start work?" Peeta asks, lifting the mug to his lips and takes a sip of coffee.

"Nine. Kinda late for my liking," she answers. "Traffic is bad by nine."

Peeta fiddles with the handle and coughs out the knots in his throat. He feels she is about to corner him into confessing his wonderful employment in crime organization, and he realizes he is not quite ready. He can't begin to fathom the shitstorm of reaction he might get from Katniss, and he thinks he may lose her again, or for the last time. "Thanks for everything and sorry that you had to do laundry too early in the morning," he apologizes, looking straight at Katniss while he presses his palm onto the heat of the mug.

Katniss neglects her coffee and folds her arms on the table. The seconds on the wall clock seem to increase in volume with each tick. Her stare is heavily fixed on Peeta that she hasn't looked away from him since he appeared from the hallway. He starts to fidget as he gives her a quick smile.

"Peeta, honey, if we're going to carry on this relationship, I will need you to..." she inhales as she looks up at the ceiling to search for the right words to patch together. "...Communicate properly with me." She feels this is a better approach if she is planning to get anything out of him. Being hostile and threatening him into exposing all the fillers in his story might just propel him to shoot up even stronger walls around him in defense.

"Ok," he says quietly as his eyes dart from side to side.

"I found odd things in your pocket this morning," she says calmly, drinking her last bit of coffee.

"Oh yea. The nicotine gum. I'm trying to quit smoking again so I started chewing on those..."

"In your other pocket."

_This is it_, he thinks to himself. _This will either break me, or destroy me completely_. He decides to take half a plunge into the truth. Progress is better than no progress.

"I own a gun. I got it last year," he admits. He watches Katniss' face sour, then shakes her head in disappointment. He continues, "I respect you and your home enough not to carry it around with me when I do come over here."

"...You own a gun?" she repeats as if it's a hard idea to process.

"And you own a badass crossbow. And I'm sure Bill or Billy or Mac or Buddy from Texas also own a gun, and that shouldn't surprise nobody," he answers her easy question all guarded and tense.

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean." Her eyes wince from across the table as she gestures for him to keep explaining. It didn't really hit her right away that she does have a weapon herself, stacked in a box on the top shelf of her storage room in the basement. She has taken ownership of her father's fancy crossbow after he passed away but she treats the item more like a hobby.

"I like feeling safe. I like feeling that I can defend myself," he adds, another half truth. It's his targets that need defending from his surprise attacks.

"And the blood on your handkerchief?"

Peeta points to his own cheek. "I cut my face earlier. I got into a little scuffle in the bar..."

Katniss lifts her hand and begins to rub her face. She almost laughs at herself, thinking that dealing with Peeta is like trying to understand and tolerate a frivolous teenager. He almost jerks back in alarm as he watches his cowboy hat materialize from behind him and float around in circles. Small hands pop out from underneath and lift the hat off, revealing Willow, ecstatic and giggling and riding on her imaginary horse.

"Yeeha! Yeeha!" Willow hollers, hopping all over the floor. Peeta doesn't move an inch but furrows his eyebrows at Katniss.

"She knows about cowboys already?"

"She was very curious about your hat this morning so I told her a couple of things," Katniss says, trying to curb her smile. Willow is not finished showing off to Peeta and has escalated into galloping, her hands pretending to hold an invisible leash around her 'horse'.

"Horseys go neigh neigh!"

* * *

Katniss and Peeta stand outside the door of the daycare watching a very energetic Willow greet her friends. Before she disappears further into an eager and bouncing crowd, she turns back around and makes a dash across, giving Katniss a tight hug around her leg. She pulls away from Katniss and then looks up at Peeta with a glint in her eyes.

Katniss leans over his ear. "I think she wants you to pick her up."

Peeta breaks into a fully-toothed grin before he bends down and gathers Willow in his arms effortlessly. She hugs his neck and he could hear her sniffing out his hair.

"You smell like mommy," she observes, using a flat tone.

"I used mommy's shampoo so I can be pretty like her. And so my hair can be soft too," he pauses to rub a bunch of Willow's hair between his fingers. "Just like yours!"

Willow giggles, keeping her arm around his neck as she presses the tip of her nose into his cheek. Suddenly, and all at once, Peeta could feel his heart doing something weird. Like melting into a puddle of goo.

"You're funny!" Willow declares and appears like she has no desire of being placed back down on the floor as she tightens her hold around him.

"Ok Willow, honey, time to say bye to Uncle Peeta," Katniss reminds her daughter. Peeta's face falls.

"Really? Uncle Peeta?" he whispers, disappointed. Katniss slightly shrugs as he starts to carefully put her down on the floor. She bolts away from them and right before she vanishes through the door, she waves enthusiastically at him.

"Bye Uncle Peeta!"

* * *

He glances at his reflection off of his car as he stands on her driveway, with one hand on the door handle. Katniss is leaning against the door frame of the front door, watching him leave. The phone in his pocket has been vibrating and he continues to dismiss it. He turns around and catches Katniss observing him closely.

"How many day-offs do you have left?"

Katniss did not see the question coming and her face screws in slight confusion. "Oh. Plenty. The ever diligent worker, that's me." She drops her head, feeling pathetic.

"What if you take the rest of the week off and let's catch up. You won't have to drop Willow off to the daycare tomorrow, we can all spend quality time together," he suggests as his face brightens at his offer. Katniss stands wordless and contemplates the man who is hammering down his own thick defensive walls in front of her, until all that's left is the shy smile on his lips and the calm of his blue eyes.

She thinks she's crazy that she's completely allowing him back in her life despite mentally labeling him as bad news. But the feelings she harbours for him still run helplessly deep that she would rather be complacent to what is supposed to alarm her than further questioning all things he hasn't told her. She returns the smile from across the driveway and agrees. "Sounds like a good idea. So what do you want to do?"

Peeta sidesteps away from his car as his hands dig into his jean pockets, his skin feeling the cool metal of the empty shell casings Katniss placed back inside.

His eyes flit upwards and wince at the sun blasting above her house. They land back down on Katniss, blinking away the temporary black spots in his vision. "Let's shoot."

* * *

They are the first to arrive at the ten am opening of Sharp Shooter indoor shooting range off of Staples Street. Peeta has arranged for a 2 hour shooting session and has rented equipment for both of them. Katniss thinks she looks goofy with her fully transparent eye protection, and refuses to have her first attempt at shooting until she sees what Peeta can do first. He loads and cocks the gun in a fluid motion and lifts his good right hand, followed by the left hand that gives support underneath the handle.

Peeta does not twitch an eye muscle as he pulls the trigger at the target, embedding two consecutive bullets in the middle of the target's head. It has created a big hole on the cardboard. Katniss lets out a cheer as she feels a little excitement creeping up her side. She looks at him and applauds, suddenly distracted by the contracting muscles on his arms as he weighs the gun in his hands. They both quickly pull down their ear protection and rest it over their shoulder.

"I always shoot using my right. My left is not that great when it comes to quickness," he says as he shifts the gun to his left hand. "It's rather clumsy, but I can probably work on it."

Katniss still looks impressed. "I don't know, Peeta. You can aim, you paint, you play the guitar," she pauses as she gives him a flirty smile. "You've always been very talented with your hands."

Peeta is now staring at her, his head sloped on an angle, biting down his bottom lip as its corners curl up into a smile. He switches his focus to the target in front of him, assigns his left hand to hold the gun and lifts it up, aiming at the target but does not shoot. He swings his hand down again and repeats, pretending to shoot, practicing his rarely used left aim.

Katniss puts her ear protection back on and Peeta mimics her action. She picks up the gun on the ledge below her with both hands, getting a first feel around it, and wraps her fingers around the handle. She shuts down her left eye as she squints at the target, her finger lightly rubbing along the smoothness of the trigger. Accuracy and aiming straight should not be alien to her. She used to shoot down pop cans with a bow and arrows as childhood and teenage pastime. Self-confidence bubbles over as she finally pulls the trigger without asking Peeta for any instructions or tips.

Her heart almost skips out of her as she is pulled back by the force that she has greatly underestimated, her feet stepping in reverse to keep her upper body in balance. Her aim is redirected by the pressure of the gun as a result of her flimsy handling, firing the bullet at the empty space outside the target outline. She somewhat lowers her hands but keeps them hanging, letting out a puff of air.

Shaken and stirred, she glances over at Peeta who has put aside his gun and has taken a couple of steps to reach her, adjusting his eye protection. She can't see him anymore as he moves and positions himself behind her, his left hand coming up to rest firmly on her waist. He applies pressure and slightly sways her at a slight angle.

"Ok take a deep breath. Keep your eyes straight and your legs steady. Feel nothing, think nothing..." Peeta talks above a whisper as he hovers behind her, inches from her right ear. He curls his right hand around hers, his thumb having a mind of its own and starts to brush against her skin. His other hand is still glued to the curve of her waist, one of his fingers finding its way underneath her shirt.

"Don't think about paper work, rumour mills, processing, documentation, crunching numbers. Don't think about your asshole client who thinks he can bark down at anybody who's anybody, just because he has money coming out of the wazoo. Don't think about the assholes in the strip club who work a nine to five job like you, throwing their money away on quick and cheap, or rather expensive thrills before they come home to their wives...But maybe you can think of your favourite things, like Willow, and her dimple and her big beady eyes, or the garden in your front lawn full of colours that constantly clash into each other," he talks in a monotone and sounds like rusty metal and dripping honey, lips grazing against her hair as she shudders from the warmth of his breath. "...Or hopefully, me, brooding and hapless with my paint brush and my canvass, expressing my love and anger for the world, for stealing away chunks of time that could've been ours, letting my sorry paintbrush drag across the white...leaving thick lines from each stroke..."

Before she is remotely conscious about it; the sound of the gun exploding passes by over her covered ears as she feels Peeta, unyielding and strong, pressed against her back, pushing her forward as she pulls back from the force. The bullet marks the middle of the target's chest.

Her arms fall as she still clutches her gun, turning her head as she subconsciously searches for Peeta's lips. "Piece of cake," she says, and smiles.

He peeks at her from behind, their eyes meeting for a split second before he tries to bend down and kiss her. But they both break away from their trance, laughing away as plastic of their eye protection collide into each other's.

* * *

Peeta parks his Lexus in front of Taco Bell as per old tradition, running around to the passenger side before Katniss could open the door. He extends his arm as Katniss yanks it and hops out of the car, smiling from ear to ear.

"This is more romantic than dinner by the seashore!" Katniss says, feeling giddy as they hold hands down the pathway to the main door.

"...Are you sure?" Peeta looks at her with a straight face.

"Maybe not."

Katniss orders her usual; two soft tacos and fries supreme with root beer, her stomach growling in anticipation. However Peeta has totally ditched his old favourite and settles for something way bigger. A crunchwrap supreme, chicken burrito supreme, fries supreme and his diet Pepsi. Katniss looks at him in complete dismay as his palms rub together before his assault.

She glances at the long, prominent veins underneath his skin and curves of his muscles and then back at his mountainous pile of food. Before Katniss could criticize his excessive choice of nourishment, he dives in head first into what his hand can grab the closest. It's almost as if she's not there anymore as he forgets to chew and inhales his food within seconds after another. He picks up his diet Pepsi and winks at Katniss as he leans back and stretches his legs underneath the table.

"Peeta. You have to start eating healthy. Once you hit a certain age, that amazing metabolism of yours will go," she says as a matter of fact before takes a slow bite of her fries supreme.

Peeta looks at her as if she has grown an extra head on her shoulder.

"But I like food Katniss."

"So do I. But we will start cooking at home, using only fresh ingredients so you won't be stuck eating fast junkfood." She picks up a taco and tilts her head before she takes a bite.

"I work out. It compensates for all the bad but delicious food I consume." He starts to make a slurping sound as he sips the last ounce of his drink. "What's that cliche that everyone says; that life is all about balance?"

Katniss shakes her head as she smiles, chewing on ground beef and lettuce and taco shell. Peeta watches her in shallow fascination as her mouth moves as she eats, spotting a pinch of unmistakable taco sauce on her lower lip. Without any warning, he stands up and leans down over her, his tongue flicking out and tasting the offending sauce as it glides across the softness of her lip.

* * *

Half a day later after seeing Katniss, Peeta finds himself in the complete opposite spectrum of Corpus Christi. He is on the first floor of an abandoned office building, slightly wheezing and sitting on a chair hunched over. His gun is hanging loose from his index finger as it sways back and forth, his arms folded and resting atop his knees. He brings a hand up and rakes his hair back, sweat trickling down the sides of his face. He hasn't shaved in two weeks and the thought of getting a haircut suddenly crosses his mind. A man whose face is half covered in blood and squirming in pain on the floor in front of him has started chuckling, his hands holding down his own leg. Peeta fired at it too from earlier, amongst other body parts he shot at.

The man has started spitting out blood.

"I thought we were a team, Mellark. You, Gale, me, the boys..." he coughs some more followed by more chuckles. "You got me. You got me good."

Peeta's cell phone starts ringing in his pocket. He looks down at the man with a fake look of regret. "It was good while it lasted huh? However, I'm going to need you to shut up for a moment as I answer this call. It's important." Peeta tells him and nods firmly at a fellow hitman under Cato.

"Hi hon," Peeta greets Katniss.

"Hi! It's me," she says.

"Oh, it's you." Peeta smiles into the phone. The injured and dying man on the floor starts to wriggle harder, foolishly trying to stand up and perhaps planning to punch Peeta in the face. Peeta holds a palm out as a gesture for him to wait.

"I received an odd item this afternoon. You will never guess what it is."

"More nicotine gum?"

"A cheque for $10,000 from Gale Hawthorne. He said there is more to come, to compensate for everything he has missed this year. It's a bit too much on the generous side."

"You saw him today?"

"Yup. He just dropped by, a bit after you left. He almost caught you," she pauses as she looks down on the cheque. "It's weird, but a pleasant surprise. My mom is going to be stoked."

"Good. I'm glad he has finally come to his senses," Peeta says, holding up a finger to his lips as a warning for the man to keep still.

"Yeah. Just wanted to tell you that. And someone here wants to talk to you!" Katniss disappears for awhile as she ducks down and places the phone against Willow's ear. Peeta presses the Mute button on his phone as he glares down at the man who is inching towards him and leaving trails of blood as he crawls.

"Hey do you mind? I'm talking here!" He is getting agitated with the man.

"Tell Cato that he can go to hell. And you, you can go to hell too, you fucker."

Peeta leans down on him, intimidating, his face relaxed but eyes fierce. "Is that all the message you would like me to parlay to the big boss?"

"Yeah...and you-"

The man isn't able to finish his last request as Peeta points the gun at his forehead and pulls the trigger. The sound of death reverberates off the walls in the room as he sits up straight and leans back on the chair. "You talk way too much for a dead man," Peeta whispers to no one in particular.

He un-mutes the phone and returns to his conversation, but with Willow this time. There is a growing pool of blood on the floor, spouting from the man's face as he tries to put his focus on the lone light bulb dangling above him.

"Hi uncle Peeta! Do you still smell like mommy?"

Peeta actually pauses to sniff himself and wrinkles his nose. "Uhh...I really don't think so...I smell bad now."

Willow lets out a long, hearty laugh as if she is being tickled. "You're a stinky poo."

"If I'm a stinky poo, you're a stinky poo."

They both laugh some more, and he could hear Katniss also snickering in the background. And for a second, he forgets he is in a dimly-lit, trashed office space that smells like asbestos and murder.

Peeta hangs up the phone and a buzzing noise floods his left ear. He presses into it as he waits for a voice.

"Hi darling. Who were you talking to?" Gale asks, sounding a bit distorted on the other side of the line. "You should keep your personal conversations until after work hours," he reminds him.

"That was Katniss."

Gale pauses. He already had an idea who Peeta was talking with by the way he sweetly cooed into the phone. "You were calling Katniss a stinky poo?"

Peeta swiftly stands up from the chair and turns the lone light bulb off, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket and wipes off some blood from his hands.

"No, that was Willow."

They both fall into the most awkward kind of silence as Peeta listens to Gale breathe unevenly into the receiver.

"Look, I've made arrangements to pick up Willow next week. Maybe I'll take her to ChuckeCheese or something."

Peeta dodges another dead body on the floor, trying to sharpen his night vision in the dark of the office. He clears his throat as he reaches the door.

"Good." He turns off and tears the receiver from his ear and jams it in his other pocket.

* * *

_Big dreams, gangster_  
_Said you had to leave to start your life over_  
_I was like, "No please, stay here..._  
_We don't need no money, we can make it all work,"_  
_But he headed out on Sunday, said he'd come home Monday_  
_I stayed up waiting, anticipating, and pacing_  
_But he was chasing paper_  
_"Caught up in the game", that was the last I heard_

_-Lana Del Rey_

* * *

He is knocking at her door again the next day. Katniss has successfully booked off the rest of the work week and has notified Willow's nursery of her absence. Willow appears behind the door, her face bright and excited at the sight of Peeta. He is carrying a big box covered in simple wrapping paper and shakes it in front of Willow.

Katniss decides to make a side comment. "Honey, Willow's birthday is in five months, and it's too early for Christmas."

"I know, but doesn't unwrapping a present make it all like, ten times better?" He places the box down and Willow makes a small jump before she hugs it like it's a pet.

She sits cross legged on the floor with Peeta as Katniss saunters to the kitchen, sliding drawers and swinging cupboards open to arrange the ingredients for making batches of cookies in a neat array. She also picks out items from her fruit basket nestled in a corner of the counter space and plans to make strawberry and banana smoothies using her Vitamix.

Willow's concentration is unbreakable as she tears away the wrapping paper, slowly revealing a miniature canvass and paint set for kids. Her eyes widen and her little mouth forms into an O as she glances up at Peeta who has been watching her kaleidoscope of reaction. "Thank you uncle Peeta!" she squeaks at him.

Peeta gets his hands on the box and wrecks it open.

By the time Katniss walks back into the living room with the glasses of smoothie, Willow is happily splashing a mixture of colours onto the canvass. Peeta is mindlessly yapping beside her, eagerly discussing the various kinds of colours on her palette. She tells Peeta she wants to draw a sun and he points to the small containers of orange and yellow paint. He guides her hand as he smears the two colours together before she lifts it up to the canvass and paints a round sun on the very top complete with squiggly sun rays. He reminds her to wash the paint off in the water container.

She darts a quick glance at him before she takes the slim tipped paintbrush and dips it in black paint. She draws three stick people below the sun.

She picks up a wider tipped paintbrush and dips it in brown paint and dabs colour on the stick person in the middle. "This is me," she says, making swirls of brown strokes as a representation of her hair. She lifts the brush and moves on to the stick person to the right, repeating the brown swirls again on top of its head. "This is mommy."

She eyes down the cup of water and plunges the wide tipped brush in it, diffusing the brown paint. There is a small smile on Peeta's lips that has not disappeared since Willow started to fill the white canvass with colours using her own sway of hands. She picks a bright yellow this time to paint Peeta's blond hair.

"And this is you. We're all together," she says proudly, stretching her arms as she finishes. She moves close to the canvass and blows all over the paint for a quick dry.

"Good job sweetie!" Peeta praises as he reaches down and pinches her cheek. He is so engulfed by the joy the little child is emitting that he is feeding off of it, marveling at her innocence and wonder towards things. He doesn't notice Katniss who has been towering behind, handing him over a glass of smoothie. He looks up at her as she begins to fold her knees to join them on the floor.

* * *

Stems of violet hydrangea blossoms rest against the green of the grass in the cemetery. Willow counts the stems loudly and tries to say the word 'hydrangea' repeatedly, her tongue twisting as she giggles by herself. She finally sits down on the patch of grass and stares at Heath Everdeen's tombstone, then gravitates toward it as she places one side of her face against it while her hand is stretched, trying to embrace it.

"...Grandpa..." she whispers.

Peeta keeps a hand on the small of Katniss back as she leans on him, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. He has not forgotten what she told him earlier about the death of her father and the kind of association he might have had before he passed away. But at the moment, there is not enough pieces to connect together so he chooses to turn a blind eye.

"How is the progress of the investigation? It's been way too long, Katniss," Peeta starts, trying to keep the conversation only between him and Katniss.

"The investigators have been just sitting on the case. There were a couple of tips from witnesses in the crime scene but nothing breakthrough. Nothing else is known besides the fact that he was shot from long range," she closes her eyes as she suddenly feels a burst of anger. "My father's killer is still out there. I want justice."

Peeta hangs his head low, grazing his lips against Katniss' hairline, his thoughts half organized. "I hope they catch the bad guy. Whoever it is."

"He would've loved Willow. He had always wanted grandchildren," she says sadly. There are no more tears, just bare resentment towards the authority and the fact that her father's case has been ignored and kept open for three years and running.

Willow turns around and looks up at both of them. It seems the last slice of colour has seeped out of her gray eyes.

"Grandpa is sleeping?" she asks her mother. Peeta steps forward and swoops down to draw her up into his arms and carries her. Willow's hands automatically snake around Peeta's neck as her eyes are kept at Katniss'. He plants a soft kiss on the side of her forehead as the dark corners of his mind wander away and start to question Cato.

"Yes. He is sleeping," Katniss answers.

"Is he always sleeping? I haven't said hi to him, you should wake him up mommy."

Peeta closes his eyes and hides his face behind Willow's, screwed in a twisted thought. The only telling bridge that leads to Cato in Heath's homicide is the fact that one of Heath's last whereabouts was the forsaken lake shore where Cato operates. Peeta finds himself prancing around a gaping hole and feels the need to fill in the missing content. Willow's little fingers start to play with Peeta's blond curls.

"He will be sleeping for a very long time."

* * *

Katniss is rinsing utensils and dishes before dumping them inside the dishwasher. Peeta came over her house bearing endless bags of groceries. He purchased lobster tails, steaks, ruby potatoes and pasta; the stars of an extravagant Friday night dinner. Katniss insists they make everything from scratch, and has discouraged Peeta from buying pre-packaged food. He arranges and seasons the lobsters and bakes them, carefully reviewing the procedures on how to cook the dish off the internet on his phone. He pulls out Katniss' barbecue grill from the tool shed and dusts it off, lightly oiling the grill before he lays down the slabs of steaks. Medium rare for him, and well-done for Katniss as per preference. She takes care of the side dishes of potatoes and a bit of garlic pasta, and also Willow's food, in which Peeta is completely clueless over.

She finally leaves the kitchen and treads to the living room, finding Peeta and Willow on the couch watching Dora on TV. He has his iPhone in his hand, with Willow looking in and completely absorbed by Hay Day, especially the farm pigs that are rolling in their own fat. Katniss' hand swings up to cover her mouth, stopping herself from cracking up at Peeta's face, mercilessly vandalized by Willow's orange paint. She has drawn in whiskers on both his cheeks and coloured in the tip of his nose.

"Super Babies Dream Adventure episode. One of my faves too," Katniss gestures at the TV and teases Peeta. He mouths "Kill me now" and returns his focus on Willow giggling at pigs as she squeezes magic bacon out of them. She finally breaks away from the game on his phone and looks at Katniss.

"Look mommy, Uncle Peeta is a cat," Willow points at Peeta's orange whiskers and orange nose. He almost looks passive about the whole thing and chuckles. Willow's expression turns serious as she almost jumps off the couch, glaring at Peeta. "I name you Fatty Cat. You're Fatty cat you're Fatty cat!" She taunts him before she settles down and nestles in, leaning her head against his arm. "Purr purr."

Peeta rolls his eyes sideways towards Katniss and lets out a puff of air. "I think she just called me fat."

Katniss plops down on the empty space beside him and tucks her legs underneath her, wrapping an arm around his while Willow continues to make cat noises from the other side of the couch.

"I hope that stuff comes off your face Peeta," she grins as she licks her thumb and begins to swipe slowly at the orange facepaint.

"No way, Jose. I'm going to be a cat forever." He glances at Willow who is now beaming at the idea.

"You're so funny daddy," she says as she finally calms down and flips her attention back to Dora in front of them, catching Katniss and Peeta off-guard with his brand new title. Peeta sneaks a look at Katniss as she raises her eyebrows, a slow smile breaking on her lips. Before Peeta could respond to anything, Katniss' mouth is on his, her hands doing lazy circles on the back of his neck as she pulls him into a quiet kiss.

He finds himself overwhelmed by an unfamiliar, fulfilling dash of euphoria, a newly discovered sense of belonging. He experiences a rise in his chest as he comes to know what it's like again to feel whole, to feel home and to feel loved.


	10. Chapter 10: Aged Gold

All the facepaint has been scrubbed down by suds and water, a flood of orange tint spiraling clockwise down the drain. Peeta curls his fingers around the rim of the sink as his other hand continues to splash warm water into his face, his head slowly lifting up to look at himself in the mirror. He breathes heavily through his nose as his eyes skim over what is being reflected back at him.

Willow has managed to wiggle her way in and add life to a formerly dead layer in his heart. He has been warned not to spoil her too much with toys, but he realizes that the more he gives, the happier he is propelled when he sees her happy too. So a bit after dinner and watching Dora on TV, he ducks outside to his car and pulls a massive box that has been carefully hiding in his back seat. Willow is beyond elated at the Imaginarium Modern Luxury Dollhouse he carries into the living room, almost knocking off a flower vase on the sofa table. Katniss is not too happy but accepts the wet kiss that Peeta leaves on her cheek as he passes her by.

Loving her is easy so letting her go was difficult. And now that she has skidded her way back into his life, albeit kicking, screaming and flailing at first, he thinks there is no more room for mistakes. He feels terrible for not coming clean and constantly evading from telling her the complete and awful truth, and a part of him feels rotten from being selfish because he's trying to have it all. But he wants this kind of normalcy, this kind of mundane so desperately, that he would trade away everything he has for simplicity. He's starting to entertain the thought of how he is ever going to quit his hitman job in front of Cato. He is already petrified of his own plan, but he has to figure out the next step of executing it.

He turns the light off in the bathroom and finds Willow in the hallway, waiting for him. Katniss is already zonked out in the bedroom, buried in the comfort of her blanket. She tends to pass out rather quickly especially after sex. Willow clutches Pooh bear in her arms as she looks up at Peeta.

"I'm sleepy, daddy..." she tells him as she scratches her eye. He picks her up and she settles in naturally in his grasp, her head resting over his shoulder as her loose brown hair flows behind her own. The top of the stuffed toy's head is tucked tightly underneath Peeta's chin and her free arm is clinging on to a bunch of his shirt. Peeta walks through the hallway and out to the living room and swiftly grabs the vibrating phone from his pocket.

"How's my favourite trigger-happy guy, huh?" Cato blasts with an abnormal amount of enthusiasm. Peeta shuts his eyes as he starts to sway Willow back and forth, trying to lull her into slumber.

"Overly chirpy as usual," his voice is reduced to sarcasm and a tone below a whisper, pointing his mouth away from Willow as he talks. "Thresh is done, and his partner. He said you should go to hell, along with me."

Cato breaks out into a fit of brash laughter. It takes him many seconds before he simmers down.

"Oh Thresh! He was a hilarious dude, wasn't he. Sure, why not, why don't we all go," Cato says casually, and slips into a sudden silence. Peeta shifts his head to peek at Willow who has now fallen asleep, her Pooh bear detaching from her hand as it drops on the floor. Cato's voice resumes to fill in his ear. "Anyway, I wanted to extend how pleased I am that you and Gale have worked out your kinks. You two definitely have that team spirit that is quite enviable. Three years and counting!" he says, letting out a small cough. "Have I ever mentioned Cornelius Snow to you before?"

Peeta is disinterested at best. "No, you haven't."

Willow slightly shifts in his arms as her small fingers tighten their grip on him.

"Cornelius Snow is the grandfather of all the mob grandfathers. He is a free spirit, maintains multiple territories across the United States. The only reason why his empire is still functioning under the discerning eye is because of his manpower. His employees, he makes sure he treats them properly, and that they treat each other right." He smirks as he runs his hand along the steering wheel below him. There is a folder on his passenger seat that he has been reviewing prior to his phone call to Peeta. "Like one big, happy family."

"That's a great story," Peeta murmurs. He is tempted to just hang up the phone before Willow has a chance to stir.

"Where are you? I wanted to drag you and Gale out for a drink."

Peeta cringes as he stares up at the ceiling, suddenly overcome with extreme annoyance towards Cato. "I'm at home. I don't really feel like getting wasted tonight, " he tries to build up a lie. "Need to finish up an art piece."

"Of course, of course. That's fine. You continue being a creative wonder and I'll talk to you in a couple of days, prettyboy," Cato says cheerfully. "Expect a bonus in your next pay." He finally hangs up the phone. Peeta lets out a sigh as he continues to rock Willow gently, who is comfortably draped over him and slightly drooling. He keeps a smile to himself as he listens to her tiny heartbeats while she sleeps.

Cato switches his gear back on drive and the car starts to crawl slowly, passing by Peeta's car parked on Katniss' driveway. Cato almost juts his head out as he squints his eyes through the window of Katniss' house. He recognizes the back of Peeta's head, his blond hair contrasting Willow's dark locks as he maintains a small dance in the middle of the bright living room.

* * *

It's a bright and early Saturday, it's his grand studio opening later in the night, and he's feeling extra good again. He has his guitar sheltered in its case lugged across his back, one of his hands holding the strap down against his chest. He is donned in a simple gray shirt and black jeans, wearing his favourite running shoes. There is a gorgeous and rare cool breeze in the air which makes him decide to ditch the Lex parked in the underground of his highrise condominium, and venture off on a one hour walk to Katniss' humble house in the suburbs. He is almost bouncing under restrained glee as he marches on the streets of downtown, making a quick stop at a flower market to buy a dozen of red roses for Katniss. By the time he leaves the store, there is a small card attached to the stems, especially handwritten by the vendor as per his request. Something incredibly cheesy and very Peeta, like "_You are the sunshine of my life_".

He notices he is smiling at strangers as well. He mentally slaps himself straight before he is able to duck his head inside the bouquet to catch a whiff of the flowers. A toy store across the street catches his attention and he springs towards it without batting an eyelash, targeting a certain stuffed toy displayed behind the glass wall. He picks an Eeyore to accompany Willow's Winnie the Pooh bear.

The paper-wrapped flowers swing happily in his hand as the other holds a paper bag with the tips of Eeyore's black hair peeking out of it, earning him many looks from women strolling past him. He ignores the flirty winks and straightens the guitar hanging off his back, looking forward to another day with Katniss and the adorable little girl he subconsciously gravitates to and almost considers his own.

There are little beads of sweat by the time he reaches the Everdeen house. He's already imagining the excitement and glow on Willow's face once he offers her the new stuffed toy to add to her collection. But his heart and his feet screech to a halt by what he sees sitting on Katniss' driveway. He glares at a familiar silver Porsche that he had tried to leave a foot imprint on earlier out of anger.

He knocks on the door and did not expect Gale to open it at all. Gale is looking smug, holding up two tall glasses of orange juice. Extra pulp.

"Well, hello my pumpkin! What are you doing here?" he holds a lopsided grin on his face. He scans Peeta over, noting the flowers, the stuffed toy and the guitar on his back.

"What are _you_ doing here, I thought you were planning to take out Willow next week, like you said during our ops," Peeta looks confused and suddenly borderline furious, gathering will to stop himself from kicking him in the balls.

"I've been thinking about it, and I thought, why not give it a good head start?" Gale leans back into the open door to give Peeta a good view through the glass door to the backyard. Katniss is sitting cross-legged on a patch of grass, blowing bubbles into the air while Willow is shrieking with joy, encircling her as she chases little bubbles. "I brought in lots of bubbly fun for today. We're also making cookies. Oh and we're painting outside later. Willow has this paint set thing she's been meaning to show me."

Peeta is speechless, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He trumps down the desire to shove Gale out of the way and join Katniss and Willow in the backyard.

"I want to talk to Katniss for a bit," he demands. He doesn't ask Gale if he could, because he thinks Gale doesn't deserve any entitlement in Katniss' house. Peeta begins to move through the door but Gale reclaims his position in the middle of the doorway, his face falling serious.

"She's very busy right now. Maybe you can drop by later in the day. You know, sing her a serenade or two?" Gale gestures at his guitar. "I didn't know you had a romantic bone in you, Mellark. You continue to surprise me!"

Peeta runs out of words as they stare each other down, gauging each other's reactions and trying to predict the next one as well. He peers around Gale and notices that Katniss has disappeared further out into the backyard beyond what he could see, and Willow pops out, materializing behind the glass door and trying to slide it open.

"Okay pumpkin. I got my hands full. Can you close the door behind you please?" Gale asks Peeta, urging him to leave, his hands still wrapped around the orange juice. "You were right. I should've been spending time with my daughter. Thanks, bro."

Peeta feels bushwhacked and takes in shallow breaths, his lips slightly parted at a thought. He finds himself in a confused trance as his emotions continually lift and crash at him, disabling him to move either forward or back. He curses inwardly, feeling like he's invading a private, family moment, and he's the unwanted outsider. And realizes he's always been. And that's all he is, much to his chagrin.

Gale stops waiting for any type of response from Peeta and finally turns around, walking through the living room and into the kitchen, placing the glasses on the edge of the counter. He acknowledges Willow behind the glass door, whose eyes widen as she spots Peeta standing outside the front door. Her gaze is fixed intently on him, blinking slowly as Gale slides the glass door open to let her in but he bends down to pick her up, preventing her from charging towards Peeta.

It all unfolds in front of Peeta, the way Willow's arms wrap around Gale's neck as she grabs a small handful of his hair. She does not utter a word, but her eyes speak volumes across the room, trying to read Peeta and figure out this situation she suddenly finds herself in, overall baffled. The normally chatty and upbeat Willow is suppressed to silence, and doesn't detach her gray eyes from him as Gale leads her away and passes through the glass door, vanishing into the backyard.

* * *

Five street corners out of range from Katniss' house, he claims a dusty chunk of the sidewalk curb, oblivious to his legs outstretched and shoes planted on the road. He ignores the looks people throw at him from inside their cars as they zoom past him, trying to avoid driving over his feet. He broods like a champ, curled inwards as he languidly blows smoke out of his mouth. He brings his hand up again and inserts the cigarette between his lips. The flowers and stuffed toy are arranged in a neat line beside him as the forgotten guitar sticks out tall from behind his back.

Even the sound of a rolling car pulling up beside him doesn't instigate him to lift his head and look up from his simmering sulk session. Cinna angles his head as he considers the miserable pile of bones and dormant gunpowder that is Peeta Mellark.

"Jeebus, dude. You look like that one person in a lottery group who decided not to chip money in the lottery pool for a week, and that group ended up winning the lottery," Cinna pauses, as if trying to make him understand. "...You know, except that person."

After a very long consideration, Peeta finally begins to budge on the sidewalk. Usually when he feels lonely, he just spends time at the pier off of Rincon Road and watches the seagulls frolic over the water and with each other. That afternoon, he feels especially in tatters, quick-dialing Cinna and blurts out to him that he is injured on a random sidewalk. Cinna arrives about fifteen minutes later, disconcerted and genuinely concerned. Peeta squints up at his friend, and for a second it seems like he doesn't even recognize him.

"Thanks, dude," Peeta mutters, taking another long drag of cigarette. He lifts his cell phone up and sees Katniss' picture flashing on the screen. "I totally get it." He snorts at his phone and returns it back in the depths of his pocket.

"Get in the car before someone runs you over," Cinna warns him. "You know, I think sometimes you're asking for it, Peeta."

"Did you ever get that wrong," he says calmly with a faint Texan accent, flicking out the cigarette butt into the street. "I ask for nothing."

He feels like being stubborn and difficult so he completely ignores Katniss' calls and refuses to hear the messages she has left. Cinna drives him back to the belly of downtown area, not quite ready to kick Peeta back out into the streets.

"Alright. Spill it. Girl problems?" Cinna asks, glancing at the lovely items in the back seat of his car. He starts to shake his head. "Haymitch is going to be so disappointed in you."

"Cinna...sometimes do you ever wonder what your life is all about, and how you ever got to this point in time? Do you ever question your choices, and dig back and ask yourself, out of the millions of choices you've made in your lifetime, which one branches out that leads you to the right path? And there is only one right one. And what if you missed it, and it's already too late?" He dips his head low and studies the lines of his palms. "What if everything that is supposed to be yours, they're already taken away from you? Leaving you in limbo, going in circles around yourself because you can't quite find it."

Cinna is dumbstruck by the amount and depth of words, glaring at him and is hit with a realization that he doesn't quite know how to handle the weight of Peeta's pensive side. "Peeta, my bro. I love you as a buddy, old pal. But do I look like Oprah to you?"

Peeta chuckles as he looks away and out the window. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know where I'm going. It's exhausting to wander aimlessly." He glances back at Cinna and he is taken aback by the visible, crushing defeat in Peeta's eyes.

"Look, Peet. There are things in life you just don't have a say over, no matter how hard you flip your middle finger to the world. Rehashing and analyzing every single sequence and events in your life will drive you insane. So do youself a favour, and don't. Just breathe and live. The mere fact that you can breathe; that's a gift in itself."

Peeta's phone starts ringing again, flinching as he sees an old familiar face flashing on the screen. Before he has time to process what his hand is doing, his finger actually presses the answer button and lifts the phone to his ear.

"Hi baby," she greets him, sounding cool like ice and sweet like candy cane. Peeta brings a hand up to massage a side of his temple.

"Glimmer. What's up?" he asks, and he could almost feel her grinning on the other line.

"Nothing much. I passed by our favourite French restaurant earlier and I thought of you," she pauses as she shifts in her bed. Her boyfriend is currently in the bathroom taking his time in the shower.

"Careful. Your boyfriend might appear behind me and club me in the head."

When she laughs into the phone, she sounds like light bells ringing. "You're so silly. I don't know Peeta..." she ponders, hugging a pillow and turns to lie on her stomach. "He's not you."

_Lucky bastard_, Peeta thinks to himself. His hand is now running up and down his face in fatigue. "Glimmer, you wouldn't want your man doing this exact same thing to you behind your back, would you?" Peeta tries to make a point, being a good Samaritan. He doesn't care to know who her recent boyfriend is. But he hears through the grapevine that she's gallivanting around town and switches boyfriends as frequent as she buys shoes.

She scoffs quietly. "I miss you. And that's all," and she hangs up the phone.

She jerks suddenly as the bathroom door swings open at her right. Cato steps out, six foot tall, bare naked in all his glory and drying his blond hair with a towel.

"I thought I heard you talking to someone," he says as he throws the towel on her carpeted floor. She shakes her head as she searches for the remote control and turns the TV on.

"You're so silly. Come here and watch The Notebook with me."

* * *

Hours later, at about five pm, Cinna begins to drag Peeta out of his seat in a pub across his condo and supports him as he attempts to lift and interchange legs while he walks. Balance is not Peeta's friend right now. Cinna almost wants to slap him blind.

"Dude! You have a studio to open in a couple of hours!" he panics comically. He now needs more than two hands to count the times he has babysat an intoxicated Peeta. "You're smashed, man!"

"Isn't that how you're supposed to open...those things?"

"Too much swag, bro. Tone down the swag."

"Bread. Feed me bread," Peeta grumbles like a mad man, spitting out his demand to temporarily ease his inebriation.

"Yeah, yeah, bread eh? Wouldn't you want some bread right now," Cinna heaves as he struggles to keep him standing upright. "Doesn't your millionaire of a family own a Panera here? We should raid their freakin' pantry, considering the rate you're going down."

Peeta finally settles in the passenger seat of Cinna's car, Cinna feeling a tinge of accomplishment. He thinks it's a hard feat dealing with Peeta when he's being a radiant mess of complication. He holds a hand up as he tries to ask Cinna for a last request.

"Can we drive to Katniss' place? I won't take long. Just have to do something..." he trails, his blue eyes pleading. Cinna nods and accepts his slurred directions as he drives out of downtown.

Eeyore and the flowers have found their way back into Peeta's grasp as he leaves his guitar in the backseat of the car this time. He treads down Katniss' pathway with more composure and grace. And much to his dismay, Gale's car is still there, feeling his heart drop some more. He sneaks quietly to the bench and peeks in through the window, and sees Gale playing with Willow around the dollhouse that he gave her. Katniss is sitting down beside him, drinking a glass of wine. Peeta mentally calculates the space between them and concludes how far Gale should really distance away from her.

It happens all too quickly and he is engulfed in a stream of superfluous visuals triggered by his imagination. A barrage of unnecessary thoughts flood him, flashes of Katniss squirming and panting heavily and screaming Gale's name as he moves above her and into her. Peeta squeezes his eyes shut as he moulds himself into the bench, hugging the gifts close to him and suddenly having a flashback of when Katniss brought him there and pushed him down in the same bench so she can fix his wound one night. He concentrates and almost prays to the almighty to give him a break.

He stands up after a mind-bending decision and leaves the flower and the bag of stuffed toy behind on the wooden seat, and glances through the window one last time before he continues his ongoing battle with symmetry and wobbles back to Cinna's car. In the living room, and out of nowhere, Katniss suddenly springs around and looks back at the door.

Gale notices the distracted look on her face and smiles at her. But she doesn't return it.

* * *

The vibe in the Mellark Art Studio is royally pompous and heavy with sophistication. The height of the room stretches about nine feet, and the walls wide and pearl white, bordered by black stripes and other hints of black throughout the extent of the gallery. A magnificent, crystal chandelier boasts in the middle of the ceiling over a wide empty floor space below, hanging and sparkling in its splendour. The classical music of Mozart faintly fills the air as servers walk around with plates of hors d'oeuvres. Coconut shrimp beignets with pepper jelly sauce, beluga lentil caviar on blini, and edible spoon with mandarin orange beef tenderloin to name a few.

Peeta's artworks are framed in aged gold, varying in sizes but not categorized in any fashion. The guests have started to fill in at seven sharp, in their glamorous dresses and suits, but he is tucked away in the back room and has no idea quite yet what to do with himself and his life in general. He lounges in his ridiculously expensive William Fioravanti Bespoke suit, now clean-shaven, amazingly sober and playing with his black tie. He smells like Ungaro III and looks like a depressed model on the front cover of a GQ magazine. Cinna rocks his Valentino, leaning against a wall and has his arms crossed in front of him.

Peeta looks longingly at his phone and finally picks it up on the table. His face is unreadable as he listens to Katniss' first voicemail, out of three. Cinna starts to pace back and forth, and peers behind the wall that separates them from the main gallery. Peeta doesn't bother to hear the rest of her messages and drops the phone back on the table.

"She said she's not coming," he says sadly with a pout on his lips, then looks up at Cinna who is now bending his legs to squat just to have an eye-to-eye contact with Peeta.

"Fine. She's not here. But you know who made it here? Your friend Marvel and Haymitch. All your supporters and buyers, they're all here for you Peeta," Cinna tells him patiently. "Let's get this show on the road."

Peeta has a renewed sense of determination and courage as he leaves his tie alone, brushes back his gelled hair and emerges from the chair. He treads behind Cinna as he leads him away from the back room and out into the open.

As soon as Peeta steps into the gallery, a huge spotlight almost blinds him as a roar of applause catches him unaware. He blinks against the light and squints through, his lips stretching to a charming smile and waves at everybody's appreciative looks. The applause has not stopped as he clasps his hands together and takes a bow, three times to each corner of the room. He repeats his gratitude multiple times, and starts greeting guests with a firm handshake.

It takes about an hour until the affluent visitors feel settled in and comfortable, milling about and have nothing but praises and raves as they observe Peeta's fascinating and dramatic art on the walls. He has received plenty of offers on three of his paintings. Champagne glasses are now making their rounds among the crowd, and more hors d'oeuvres are being pushed out of the kitchenette.

Peeta ducks out of a small group of seniors and finds his friends, encircling the mini-bar situated near the lounge area which is decked by magenta walls and a Swarovski centre piece in the middle of the table. He receives a hard slap in the back as a greeting from Marvel. Haymitch lifts his champagne glass at Peeta and nods, offering him a smile. Cinna turns around and orders an extra drink as soon as he sees him trying to join them whilst the many people who are vying for his attention. Peeta is elated and can't help but feel fuzzy inside. He almost wants to pull his friends into a big group hug.

Suddenly, the crowd parts like the red sea as a new presence graces the studio floors. Annie Cresta and her posse, consisting of Cashmere, Clove and Enobaria float across the space, exuding grace, vintage beauty and class. They all have wine glasses in one hand as the other holds their sparkling clutch bags. Annie is not looking at anyone but Peeta.

Haymitch, Marvel and Cinna's mouths hang open as they reflexively step back while she pushes her way into the circle, her friends hovering inches behind. She moves too close to Peeta as she reaches for him and leaves a kiss on his cheek, and proceeds to nod at his friends. He greets her and the rest of her group, and does all the formal introduction in between.

Annie's hair is straight and jet-black, lips as red as cherry stain. Her eyes are smoky brown and her dress long and red and elegant. Marvel is struck by how extremely attracted he is to her, and so is Haymitch, and also Cinna. Peeta lifts the glass to his lips as he takes a slow sip of champagne, oblivious to everything.

"This studio is amazing, Peeta. You've done well. I love your works," Annie coos.

"Thanks! I worked hard for this," Peeta answers and gestures around the room. "Nice to see the fruits of my labour in an organized chaos. Normally they're just scattered across my condo."

Annie laughs, followed by girly giggles courtesy of her friends towering behind, standing around her like mannequin guards.

"Might as well build a studio for all of them, right?" Annie sounds awkward, but she figures she probably sounds charming because she's pretty.

Peeta nods and accepts a random handshake from a newly-arrived guest who is attempting to squeeze in between his friends' shoulders. He thanks the guest for coming and tells him to enjoy the food and drinks. Haymitch suddenly walks into the middle of the circle and right in front of Peeta, lifting his glassful of alcohol as he recites a cheer. The whole studio falls eerily silent.

"To Peeta, and his accomplishments. To his modesty, his talents, to his superb jawline," Haymitch waggles his eyebrow as he talks a volume above the normal chatter in the room. Peeta smiles and shakes his head, his eyes shooting down the floor. Haymitch continues. "To his successes and future endeavours. To Peeta. Cheers."

Champagne glasses are raised high as everyone responds to Haymitch' salute to the main man of the night.

After the good vibes mellow down, Annie sidles up next to Peeta and has a sheepish look on her face.

"Actually, I was thinking of getting you to do a portrait of me," she sounds like silk and other heavenly things, not loud at all but enough for the inner circle to hear. She locks eyes with him and notices he is still being defiant from her pull, as if there is a brick wall between them. It makes her even more interested and agitated at the same time.

"Oh. Ok," he pauses as he places his empty glass on a server's full tray. "You can pick whichever setting you want. Garden, by the water, by a graffiti-laden wall in the city, anywhere."

"I'll need a place that is closed off, because I will have nothing on."

Marvel spits out the bit of alcohol he has been playing with inside his mouth as Cinna coughs. Haymitch looks like he's about to faint. Peeta's eyebrows furrow in the slightest at her, not knowing how to react to this request he has never received before. He starts to fidget, his vision suddenly dropping down to her popping cleavage.

"I uhh...like in Titanic?" Peeta asks like an idiot.

"Yes! Exactly like in Titanic," her eyes are almost trying to seduce his. He is now wincing at the diamonds dangling from her left ear.

Words and wits fail him. "...Are you sure? ...There's a botanical garden nearby, it's really nice, I've had a client ask me to paint her there."

He is distracted by Marvel poking at his side.

"'It's really nice'? Dude, if you were offered a rib eye steak and a filet mignon, which one do you choose?" Marvel is glaring at him and talking in a whisper, almost tearing his hair apart.

"I don't know, they're both cut of steaks?" Peeta whispers back.

"Dude! You pick the filet mignon!" Marvel almost feels the urge to facewash him.

As if he is not being poked and bothered enough, Cinna yanks at his sleeve. He then points at someone far off across the room, standing and looking lost in the middle of the animated bodily activities.

"Sorry to interrupt this little party, but isn't that-"

"Katniss!" Peeta almost jumps and ditches the circle, a naked vision of Annie now a mere afterthought.

On the other side, Katniss stops from searching far and wide and looks relieved at the sight of him approaching her, all suited up, handsome and achingly happy. She adjusts the glasses perched on her nose, smiling from ear to ear.

"You're here," he exclaims as he reaches her, but keeps a healthy distance apart. She is wearing black slacks and a simple flowery top, and on her feet are her favourite ballerina shoes.

"I found the flowers you left on the bench. Thank you. And Willow loves her new toy," she pauses and tries to search for something in his eyes. "She was looking for you." A part of her wants to demand an explanation as to where he was during the day but she disallows it.

"...Sorry. Got caught up with something today."

"I left you messages," a look of hurt quickly crosses her expression before she shrugs it off. She starts to explain. "Did you know Gale came over my house today? I had the hardest time kicking him out. He left when I finally went to my mom to drop Willow off, and then I didn't have enough time to dress up." She looks down on herself and almost blushes from embarrassment. "Sorry I'm extremely under dressed." She darts looks at the curvaceous, captivating women walking around and monitoring Peeta from afar.

His hand finds her upper arm and wraps his fingers around it, but he looks unsure and doesn't draw her near. He is very much surprised that she has shown up and he can't get over it.

"I think you still look beautiful," he smiles as he extends his other arm, tucking away a strand of her hair behind her ear. But his fingers linger there, indulging in the simple feel of her skin, until he is slowly pulling her closer. He sweeps over her and peppers her with light kisses, gentle and slow, as if she was fragile. And when he moves away, her eyes are twinkling in enchantment.

He allocates time to show her around the gallery, pointing at his most popular works and also introducing her to some of his sponsors and regular buyers. They rest for a while and eat fancy finger food in another lounge area that is remote from the bustling core of the gallery.

After Katniss downs her white wine, he takes her hand as he begins to walk to the middle of the floor where his friends are. She feels small under scrutinizing eyes, criticizing her appearance and lack of glitz. She inwardly curses at herself for wearing her glasses and not her contact lenses. They reach the circle and Peeta introduces her to the boys, even the disgruntled Annie.

"Hey I remember you," Marvel declares, and then refrains from making any reference to the strip joint.

"Nice to finally meet you. Peeta talks a lot about you guys," she says, completely ignoring the dirty looks Annie is throwing at her left right and centre. "I'll tell Peeta to have your game night over at my place one day. I make a mean smoothie."

"...Hmmm...how do you resist CoD AND smoothie at the same time..." Marvel turns around but Peeta is long gone from his side, disappearing into the crowd. Marvel chuckles as he switches his gaze back to Katniss. She lets out a small laugh as she grabs another glass of wine off a server. Over the buzz of other people's conversations, she could pick out Annie's friends blatantly talking about her, not bothering to conceal it.

"...What a peasant. Which bus shelter did Peeta pick this one up?..." Clove mocks her. Annie, Cashmere and Enobaria break into a shrilling laughter as they all stare down Katniss.

"Some people should just keep their dignity and stay away from places where they don't fit in so they don't make a fool of themselves," Annie adds more ridicule, looking at her friends to support her.

Katniss hides the humiliation she feels, keeps her head up, turns around and walks away. Haymitch and Cinna fall agape at Annie and her group with a visible sense of disapproval and repulsion. Marvel takes a deep breath and dares to talk back to Annie.

"Hey guess what? That 'peasant' is Peeta's girlfriend," he says as a matter of fact. "Some people, like you, should keep their dignity and stop trying."

* * *

_Some say love is not for sinners_  
_I believe that isn't true_  
_'Cause when I was finished sinning_  
_Love came down and showed me you_

_And you told me how to get there_  
_So I tried to find a way_  
_Then I ran into your garden_  
_But I tripped out the gate_

_-Hedley_

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the support! Reviews are my energy shots :)**


	11. Chapter 11: Pearl White

**A/N: Hello. Have a Kronenbourg Blanc and enjoy all the calm that I have been providing before the storm**

* * *

The colours blending and marrying each other on the canvass pique her senses. The short strokes of paint, blues in varying shades with highlights of white, congregate and transform into what looks like sparkling water. The mountains on the background are mere shadows, and the blazing sun on the upper left hand corner is dazzling, gleaming oranges and yellows compacted in a circle blurred over the round edges. There are hints of tamed red and light pink whipped over the horizon, creating a soft, balmy feel.

Katniss is tucked away in a corner and has managed to block out the stream of noises around her, especially Annie and her clique, and switched her focus on understanding Peeta's art instead. One thing she has learned how to dodge at an early age was girl drama. She keeps a smile to herself, feeling proud of him and his talent he has succeeded in maximizing over the years. Someone is standing at a close proximity behind her as she hears the person shift, followed by more footsteps until the person is almost beside her.

"In this particular art, his choice of colours and technique create such a dream-like, ethereal feel to it. I think this one is breath-taking," the soft-spoken voice critiques Peeta's painting. "It exudes warmth. You feel it, it surrounds you, as long as you keep a studious eye on it. It's very powerful."

Katniss turns at an angle and is presented with a bewitching smile to add to the handsome face.

"I tend to agree," she answers. "It's amazing how the arrangement of colours can speak and extend different waves of emotions to the viewers."

The person reaches out for a handshake and introduces himself. "I'm Finnick. I saw you and Peeta hanging out by the lounge area earlier." Katniss keeps a firm shake as she maintains eye contact. "You must be the leading lady." He grins, his confidence and boyish charms that replicate Peeta's shine outwards, and Katniss finds herself having to shield her eyes.

"I don't know about that, but I'd like to think so. The women here are the vicious celebrity types." She almost laughs at herself. "I'm Katniss, by the way."

"I honestly think that if you can attract a man by keeping it simple and not even trying as hard as these superficial, gold-digging women here, then you know it's real. There must be something about you he doesn't see in anyone else." His eyes flit up, searching for a word. "Something lovely."

_And I'm trying to figure out what that is until this very day_, Katniss thinks to herself. She tries to veer the topic to another direction. "So Finnick. How do you know Peeta?" she asks.

Finnick's hands dig into his pockets as he turns away from her and looks far off into a distance, at the next art piece to Katniss' right. "I'm a friend of a friend of his. I've known him since he moved here to Corpus Christi. Great guy," he promotes him.

Another set of footsteps approaches them as she refocuses on the art hanging on the wall, refined by a small spotlight pointing at it, suspended from the ceiling.

"I see you two have met," Peeta says, nodding at Finnick as one of his hands magnetize towards Katniss' waist. She curls into his arm and leans in to kiss the tip of his nose.

"He has just finished reciting a very impressive review of this painting right here," she gestures at the art.

"Finnick, I didn't know you were an art critic," Peeta smiles.

"Hey, I just tell it how it is, I don't tell it how it might be," he winks at Peeta. "I do appreciate the more finer things in life, such as art, and this excellent glass of wine." He moves to pick up a glass from a server who is manning the area, the last round of wine to come around for the night.

Peeta lets go of Katniss and gives Finnick a friendly pat on the back. He changed his mind about inviting Cato and Gale to the premiere, trashing their invitation cards at the last minute. He figures there is nothing wrong with inviting Finnick, in fact, he actually doesn't mind him. And he doesn't care about any friction or awkwardness that might unfold if Finnick happens to mention this event to both of them.

Finnick asks for a moment and yanks Peeta a few steps away from Katniss. Their heads are dipped in so close to each other that Finnick's lips are hairstrands away from Peeta's ear.

"Where's Gale?," he asks. There is a premature look of dread clouding over his eyes. "You didn't kill him, did you?"

Peeta seems blanked out and does not show any kind of reaction to the boldness of the question. "No. Why would I kill him?" His eyes are peeled wide open, drilling into Finnick's.

"...Nothing. Just double-checking!" And Finnick pulls away from him, flashing Katniss another smile. Peeta clears his throat as he subconsciously runs a hand over the lapel of his suit.

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying the night. Thanks for coming and showing support," he resumes his normal tone and sounds overly formal, like a politician. Finnick raises his glass to him before he turns on his heels and sinks into the crowd.

Katniss and Peeta both study the artwork in silence, enjoying a fleeting kind of lightness with Katniss on his side. A new set of music by Mozart starts playing and he has an appeased look on his face. He holds his hand out to Katniss and draws her to an embrace, his hands sliding down her back and settling over the curve of her hips. She rests her palms against his chest as she peers up at him from behind her glasses.

"You have an interesting set of friends. I like them," she tells him as Peeta starts to sway her from side to side. They move lazily, shoes barely lifting up but not enough to warrant as a dance. They are wrapped around each other and no one else exists in that space of time.

"Yeah they're not bad. Pain in the ass sometimes, but they make me laugh."

Katniss is grinning at him, suddenly fascinated by the cleft of his chin.

"I don't have many friends here. But I have Johana. She has the tendency to stress me out but she makes me laugh too," she says, lifting her gaze back up to Peeta's eyes. "I have my coworkers, whom I don't want to deal with after office hours." She pauses before a weight of sadness falls on her chest. "I miss Madge. A lot."

Peeta starts to rub along the length of her back, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. He is suddenly quiet, immersed in a thought as he hovers over Katniss' hair. He starts to sway a bit harder as he leads the dance just underneath the bright spotlight. A bulb sparks in his head as he detaches himself from Katniss, allowing himself distance so he could look at her.

"I have a proposition. Why don't we pack up lightly and fly back to Kentucky soon. You can pay Madge a surprise visit and then we'll have dinner at my parents' house," he sounds excited and looks like he won't take no for an answer. "Just for a weekend. I'm not asking half a week this time."

Katniss is staring at him with slight uncertainty and amusement. Although, she loves his spontaneity and zest to take initiative when it comes to planning. She doesn't quite know what to expect from seeing his family again, let alone Madge. But she could use this time to get away for a little bit and experience home again.

"That sounds good. I'll have to arrange something with my mother regarding Willow."

Peeta looks content and steps away before he extends an arm to twirl Katniss around on her toes. He tugs her right back in as his hands find her hips again. Katniss looks at him as if she is about to burst out laughing.

"Honey. You don't like Mozart. Since when did you ever start listening to classical music?" she asks him incredulously.

"Are you kidding me I love Mozart. This is Piano Concerto No. 1," he says as he presses his cheek onto the side of her forehead. He starts to hum along with the music and Katniss giggles at the vibration she feels coming from his throat. He moves away to look down at her as the corner of his lips stretch into a smile.

"Oh. You're doing it again," she says as she scans over his face, her eyes darting between his eyes and lips.

"What?"

"That smile you do...right there..." She takes her index finger and presses it against his cheek, and can't help but holding it in deeper because she finds it irresistible. The rest of her fingers begin to unfold and splay over his skin until she is cupping his face. After a moment of simple joy, she brings her hand down, and thinks that she wouldn't be able to imagine the rest of her days without him, had she not given him the second chance he was begging for.

He seduces her with a mere hilt in his voice. "Only when I'm with you."

The twinkling sounds of piano and the wash of yellow light continue to float in the room, spellbinding and lovely as they fall a little bit more in love with each other.

* * *

About an hour later Katniss is exhausted and prepares her goodbye to his friends who are chatting away in a lounge area. Peeta walks her out of the studio and escorts her to her car, poking his head through the ajar window to ask for a kiss goodbye. He watches the backlight of her car disappear into the distance before he marches back to the main door.

Before he is able to reach for the brass handle, he hears an old familiar stride, a certain tapping of four inch heels increasing in volume as it grows louder and nearer. He whips his head back and lets out an exaggerated breath as he sees Glimmer materialize from the side street.

"You think I forgot about this significant event in your life?" Glimmer asks, intoxicated, her eyelids sparkling and lashes abnormally long. "Remember, I was there for you when you were building yourself up. Before you were anybody."

"Glimmer, go home. There's no after-party," Peeta says as he maintains the space between them and gives her a reminder, "Let's leave the past where it is."

She reeks of alcohol and smoke on top of Burberry perfume. Her dress is way too short and her heels way too high, and there is a Hummer limo waiting for her parked on the other side of the street, packed with rowdy club-goers and blasting with techno music. Her army of friends just finished pre-drinking at someone's condominium and are on their way to a club located on the same street as Peeta's studio but further eastbound. She forced the driver stop the limo and risked her diva image as she struggled to walk across the busy street by herself.

"...But I took you for granted. Sorry I took you for granted..." Glimmer hiccups as her face sours, threatening a downpour of emotions.

Peeta has a worried look on his face as she blinks at him with glossed-over eyes, unsteady in her Louboutin pumps.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your party. They're waiting for you," he suggests, glancing at the obnoxious limo holding an even more obnoxious crowd inside. He reaches out and supports her forearm as they cross the street along with bustling pedestrians stumbling on alcohol. She surprisingly conforms, suddenly needing a chair she could settle down into as her hand flies up to balance her head.

A camera points at them, hidden in the shadows, zooming in on Peeta and Glimmer moving under the street lights.

* * *

Gale whistles as he turns into a residential area, consisting mostly of small to medium-sized homes. He squints as he passes them by, trying to recall what Katniss' house looks like. He recognizes a tall manicured shrub that acts as the divider between two front lawns and beams as he fully remembers her house number. He switches the right turn signal on, hands gliding around the steering wheel before he begins to veer his Porsche to the right.

He knows he can't be bothered by Willow. Or Katniss. In fact, he has a girlfriend he keeps on the side whom he prefers to stay unknown to Peeta. He's convinced he is squeezing himself into the situation between Peeta and Katniss just to infuriate Peeta for beating him up on the pier.

Lo and behold, a marvellous white car on the other side of the street looms nearer, creeping on neutral, its left turn light flashing. Gale scratches his head, realizing that the other car is trying to turn into the exact same driveway that he is trying to park into. There is only one empty space beside Katniss' idle Toyota. The battle for the lone parking spot sort of begins.

He huffs as he recognizes Peeta's Lexus rolling dangerously closer to him, inch by inch, his light adamant on indicating that he wants to turn left. Gale thinks he is having none of Peeta's shit today and pushes his car forward, careful that he won't hit the curb. Apparently Peeta also thinks he does not want to deal with Gale's shit either so he wastes no time in thinking twice as he revs his engine and floors the gas pedal. The Lexus leaves a cloud of dust and smoke behind as Peeta turns the engine off in haste. Gale slams the break of his car and is now tilted at an awkward angle into the driveway, suffering the aftermath that is Peeta's dust.

Peeta jumps out of his car and slams the door shut, giving it a quick observation as he runs a finger across it, scoffing at the dirt against the pearl white. He suddenly jolts out of feigned surprise as he sees Gale emerging from his car, as if he had never seen him trying to approach the house at all. He sends a flimsy wave as he greets Gale.

"Uhh. I don't think you can park there. You might get a ticket. Those things cost $20, brutal," Peeta shakes his head at him.

Gale fidgets as he walks around his car and leans back on the hood, playing with the keys in his hands. "Whatever. I was just here to drop this cheque off to Katniss." He pulls out a folded cheque from his pocket and shows it to Peeta. Peeta raises his eyebrows as his expression reads disbelief, striding towards Gale. Gale almost skips back into his car because Peeta chooses to step on his personal space, unapologetic, looking down on the piece of paper in Gale's hand before he plucks it away.

"Looks legit," Peeta breathes into the cheque before he flashes Gale a smirk. "I will ensure that Katniss receives this. In fact, I'm seeing her right now." Peeta slaps Gale's back with such force that he almost fumbles into him. "You are a good man, Hawthorne," he nods at Gale before he turns and walks away, heading for Katniss' front door.

Inside, Peeta unfolds the cheque and is satisfied by the many digits, specifically zeroes, written in blue ink. He chuckles as he begins to talk out loud into the living room.

"Door was open, I let myself in. I got us a kinky board game, it's in the trunk of my car and Willow is not allowed to see it, and lastly you got another cheque from Gale." He lifts his head up from verifying the cheque and his breath hitches in the middle of his throat as he stands face to face with Mrs. Everdeen. She is poised by the opening into the kitchen, eyes wide open and hands occupied, drying a big ceramic bowl with a towel. She twitches a neck muscle before the bowl slips off, gravity claiming it as it drops from her grasp. It cracks and breaks into many pieces as it shatters against the floor.

Willow pops up from behind Mrs. Everdeen and squeals as soon as she catches Peeta who is still not breathing by the door, like a deer caught in the headlights. Willow laughs delicately as she skirts around the broken bowl and begins to do her little tumbles and cartwheels into the living room. As per usual she lands on her bottom, looking up at Peeta as she gets back up on her legs. She runs to him, arms flailing and animatedly excited.

"Daddy you're back!" she screams into his face as he picks her up. "You have no hair on your chinny-chin-chin anymore."

Katniss appears from the hallway, hair pony-tailed, face haggard and sweating along the forehead.

"Alright, I said no horse playing in the house," she responds to the noise in the kitchen and pauses as she notices Peeta still frozen by the door carrying Willow. "Oh, hi honey. No horse playing in the house and breaking things please."

She follows Peeta's gaze across the room, landing on her mother who is dumbfounded and her mouth itching to speak.

"Hi Mrs. E," Peeta finally greets her and suddenly feels very small.

Mrs. Everdeen winces at the setup in front of her. "What in the name of all that is mighty..."

Peeta gives her a quick smile as Willow looks up at him with furrowed brows. She looks serious as she asks, "What does kinky mean?"

* * *

Katniss suddenly has a grocery list to attend to and makes a dash out of the house, leaving Peeta and Mrs. Everdeen in the middle of a stare down in the dining room. Peeta sits on the far end of the rectangular table with Willow sitting on his lap, lining up Pooh bear and Eeyore on the table. Mrs. Everdeen picks the seat perpendicular to him, her arms crossed on the surface, cracking her knuckles as she commences her interrogation.

"So what kind of lies have you told my daughter?"

"Excuse me?"

"What was so important here in Corpus Christi that you ditched all you had behind, out of nowhere?"

"It was a family matter, Anita," he cements his words and stays true to his main excuse.

"It was another woman!" Mrs. Everdeen insists, indifferent to Willow who is engulfed by her stuffed toys. He raises an eyebrow halfway.

"If you don't mind me asking, where do you base that on?" he retorts, trying to keep his cool.

"You don't think I would know about these things?"

Peeta sighs as he flings his head back, leaning it against the chair. Willow glances at her grandmother and pushes Winnie towards her.

"Grandma, you're Pooh," she assigns her toy. "I'm Eeyore." She nudges Pooh bear with Eeyore's nose as she encourages her grandmother to pick up the toy and play with her.

"I don't know what you're up to, but I will find out," Mrs. Everdeen threatens him. Peeta shakes his head in the slightest and glares at her. He honestly thinks that it wouldn't be a good idea.

"Look, it wasn't another woman. I want to be with Katniss and I ensured I established that with her. Willow is a sweetheart and I would like to be a part of her life and help Katniss raise her. We've worked a long way to get to this point from where we left off and I'm not going anywhere." There is a defiant, rebellious look on Peeta's face and Mrs. Everdeen answers with a soft grin.

"I used to like you alot, Peeta. And I'm certain Heath would say the same to you," she picks up Pooh bear and wiggles it in front of Willow, cooing at her. And through gritted teeth and smiling lips she says flatly, "Don't disappoint me anymore."

* * *

She leaves the strip joint from the back door that leads to the alleyway that leads to the dimly-lit parking lot, smiling to herself. A heavy weight on her chest and conscience gracefully dissolves as she bids farewell to Johana and the rest of her co-workers, flinging her hair and gyrating on the stage one last time for her final night of employment as a dancer. She has mentioned her decision of quitting to Peeta earlier, but did not specify when she would do it.

She turns on a corner, fishing for her car keys but collides into something tall and large, catching the underlying scent of alcohol on their breath and their clothes. A hand materializes from the shadow in front of her and grabs her wrist. She yelps from the pressure and abrupt realization of fear.

"Hey girly girl. Too bad you're leaving the gentlemen's club for good," a man winks at her in the dark, a few parts of his face weakly illuminated by the lamp post. "I'll pay you tops for one last lap dance?" he asks as he shoves her back violently, sending her staggering and falling on her ass on the ground. She could hear her own nervous heartbeat as she tries to ignore the sting and small streaks of blood on her bare legs after rolling and scratching against the concrete. Before she could gather her strength and transfer it down to her bag as she positions her arms to batter the man's face, he lunges down and presses his whole body onto her. And before she could shriek at the top of her lungs, his hand is clamped over her mouth while the other one pins down her wrist onto the ground.

She struggles to kick and fight off the man as he continues to spread her legs, positioning himself over her as he rips off her top, leaving her thrashing in her spaghetti-strap tank top and mini skirt. She screams into his palm, making suppressed, muffled noises instead.

"Hmmm. Feisty yet satisfying," he hisses into her ear as she tries to push him away. He frees one of his hands and it begins to wander downwards, brushing along the length of Katniss' leg, and then glides back up to the hem of her skirt. He pauses and chuckles before he continues to touch her until he relishes at the feel of her underwear.

A tear rolls off the corner of her eye as he watches the man get lifted up off of her and falls back on the ground, followed by a kicking shoe that whizzes past her face. The man is astonished, and still drunk, caught off guard by another presence in the dark back alley. Katniss looks up at the silhouette of a figure towering over her and her assailant, gaping at a weapon pointed down. She quickly sits upright, panting heavily and her hair in wild disarray. The straps of her tank top have slid off, and her skirt is hitched an inch higher.

"Get off her, asshole," her instant superhero mumbles in the dark, sounding like he's about to unleash all that is hell. She could sense he is trying to control himself from raising and pointing the gun at the man as he grips it with rabid intensity that his hand trembles.

Katniss recognizes the voice and gasps as she covers her mouth before she's aware of what her hand is doing. More small tears border her eyes but they don't fall. "Oh my god...Peeta?"

He doesn't respond but he resumes his business with the man, picking him up by the collar and pushing him further into an even darker corner of the backstreet. The man counters and shakes Peeta off, landing a solid fist into Peeta's jaw, making him fumble backwards. But he is quick to his feet and pummels the man right back in the nose until the rest of the darkness swallows them in, completely disappearing from Katniss' vision.

She almost crawls towards the wall so she could lean on something as she tries to stand up, grabbing her bag along the way and pulls down her skirt, her eyes alert to any movement beyond her. She almost calls out his name as the noises from the scuffle fade away. Her hand feels stapled to the wall and her legs command her to flee but she wants to see Peeta emerge from the dark.

The sounds of explosion make her scramble backwards and she almost trips on herself. Two shots are fired. Finalized by more silence.

Her jaws hang loose as she watches Peeta run out, straight-faced and composed, and just about catches his hand moving out of his inner jacket after placing the gun back inside. His hand lifts up to his ear as he presses into a small device.

Gale buzzes in through the line. "Bro, you just killed Gloss. You may, or may not, be in shit."

"This one was personal," he barks back, and then lowers his voice, "He almost raped Katniss."

"Peeta," Gale rubs his hand down his face. "I just got a confirmation. His partner, who is our target, is actually not even in the country right now. He is currently enjoying snowboarding on the mountains of Canada, the land of strong and free."

"Oh well, he was probably on the list anyway, right?" Peeta asks casually in a hushed voice as if Katniss was not there, who is shell-shocked out of reason and logic. She forgets to blink as Peeta keeps about ten feet away from her, touching his ear as he talks. "Might as well jump over all the other suckers."

"But we have a sequence going on, Peet. There's an order we have to follow..."Gale sighs as he extends his patience a tad more. "Ok. I'm out on the street. I'm waiting." Then he signs off and the line falls dead.

Peeta finally glances at Katniss, her legs and hands shaking.

"You alright Katniss?" he asks as if nothing terrible had just transpired. He reaches for her arm but she avoids his hand, springing back in reverse as she begins to see Peeta in a different light.

"What did you do Peeta?" she raises her tone at him, frightened and confused and not afraid to show it.

They both look far into the end of the alleyway as a black van pulls up and stalls there. Peeta forgets her question as he starts to run towards it, turning to Katniss and reminds her she should run too. She takes a deep breath as she balances herself on her heels and strides behind Peeta, who has not been generous with words to explain himself.

Peeta almost slams into the vehicle as he slides the door open, glaring at Katniss.

"Get in the van," he commands her firmly.

"Peeta. Don't tell me you just did what I think you just did," Katniss finds her tongue twisted and her mind spinning as she tries to make sense of things.

"Katniss. I love you and get IN THE FUCKING VAN," Peeta's instruction escalates into a stifled yell.

Her eyes scan around the area to make sure no one is looking at them attempting to escape a crime scene before she lifts her leg and ducks in the armoured vehicle. Inside, she is greeted by blinking lights and laptops strewn all over the seats. Peeta sits beside her and observes almost every inch of her skin, especially the small scratches on her legs and arms.

Her breaths are uneven and her heart is still beating out of her chest as they stare into each others' eyes, lips parted but wordless. She tries to pick at her cluttered mind and tells herself to get a grip. She hears conversations in the background coming from the front speakers of the van; multiple sounds and chatter streaming from left to right. They're a mere jumble of voices, but she somehow isolates and deciphers a small phrase out of the myriad of noises, faint and quick.

"...Everdeen's kid..."

Her head automatically flings around and tries to peer at the driver sitting in the front, her dread continuing to unravel. She feels a lump stuck in her throat as she recognizes Gale, staring back at her reflection off the mirror above him. He doesn't stir, nor say anything to acknowledge her, but he dips his head back down until she can't see him anymore. He presses on the pedal and the van screeches out of the plaza.

Katniss returns her focus to Peeta whose eyes are still sweeping over her, lingering at the curves of her breasts. He brings a hand up and picks the fallen strap of her tank top, gingerly lifting it and placing it back over her shoulder. He repeats the same motion to her other strap, watching her chest rise and fall under panic. He stops himself from leaning down to lick a stubborn bead of sweat that rolls down from the dip of her neck.

"He didn't hurt you bad, did he...You're alright..." he concludes by himself and trails off as he runs a finger along her jawline and rests it on the tip of her chin.

Katniss chokes and looks like she's suffering from vertigo. Her lids slowly droop as her eyes continue to lock with Peeta's, and finally manages to push something out of her mouth.

"...What the f-"

* * *

_There goes my hero_  
_Watch him as he goes_  
_There goes my hero_  
_He's ordinary_

_-Foo Fighters_


	12. Chapter 12: Pitch Black

**A/N: I hope everyone had an awesome holiday! May 2013 be good to all of us.**

**They say you gotta do one thing that scares you everyday. So I decided to write an action genre, at the same time somehow wrap it around a layer of romance. One night I was skimming over my previous fanfic, and I got sad, the crushing type of sad. It was so nice, emotional, fluffy and soft, but still with its twist, mind you. I was like, "Really I wrote that?" And then I compared it to this recent one that I'm writing, and it's such a blaring contrast. I feel like freakin Jekyll and Hyde.**

**I told the boyfriend yesterday about this fic and all he said was "what a fucking crazy story", but I actually don't mind crazy. ****Figured I m****ight as well capitalize from my odd twisted mind. **It's been fun to write, except the occasional writer's block here and there, specifically the first scene of this chapter. The thing gave me such a hard time.

* * *

_I know my ex-boyfriend lies  
__Oh he does it everytime_  
_It's just his permanent disguise_  
_Yeah, yeah, but he's drop-dead gorgeous_  
_-Republica_

* * *

Lukewarm water soothes her nerves. The bath tub is filled in only halfway, free of the usual dump of bubbles and fizz and aromatic scents. The top of her head remains dry as the tips of her hair float on the surface, creating an elegant fan shape around her. She sits in one corner of the tub, her hands wrapped around her knees which are pulled up and pressed against her breasts. She takes in one long drag of air and exhales, staring down through the water, specifically at the reddish scratches against her olive skin.

Outside the bathroom, Peeta sits on the floor with his back leaning against the wall. His legs are outstretched, feet inches away from Eeyore looking glum and hopeless, resting opposite of him. He shifts in his position, the growing pain from his ass starting to seek attention.

"Katniss. Come out of there and let's talk," he begs. He is answered by silence as Eeyore continues to stare back at him. Katniss moves inside the tub and Peeta hears nothing but the faint swish of water. Seconds expire between them and for a brief moment, he is scared that Katniss might have sunk to the bottom of the tub.

"I don't know what to do with you Peeta," she finally says in an overbearing, exhausted voice. "You're name _is_ Peeta Mellark, right?"

"That is..." he shakes his head and maintains a stoic face. "That's very funny."

"If there is anything else life-altering you would like to reveal to me, you should do it right now while I'm a good distance away from you." She leans down and watches her rippled reflection on the water. "Wouldn't want you to see me faint like that again, losing my poise like that." She refers to what happened to her earlier in Gale's armoured van, amidst a sensory overload and the whopping realization that things were about to take an incredibly ugly turn.

Peeta reaches forward for Eeyore and starts to squeeze it. "I'm also the king of England."

"More lies from my lover," she blurts out in a light demeanor. "Do you get off on it, lying to me?" Oddly enough, she does not sound angry.

"I can list a couple of things I do get off on, and lying is not one of them. It involves mostly thoughts of you..." he trails as he starts to gather himself up off the floor. He presses his mouth into the gap of between the door and the frame. "Come out or I'm barging in through this door."

"So charming in the most inappropriate times. That's my man," she chortles as she slides and falls backwards into the tub, letting her whole head submerge in the water. Meanwhile on the other side, Peeta is running low on patience and lifts a leg, and lets his foot crash chivalrously into the door. The door swings loose and the noise sends Katniss to bolt upright, raising her head above the water as she gasps and lets out a surprised yelp.

Peeta picks up the folded towel sitting on the vanity and spreads it open, draping it over Katniss' shoulder. She folds inwards and scowls at him.

"I said no breaking things inside the house!" she raises her voice for the first time since Peeta drove her home from their hit operation gone awry. He feels a tinge of regret that Katniss had to witness his temper and protectiveness over her get the better of him, further exposing his real occupation. But a huge part of him is relieved that she knows the truth and he doesn't have to run away from it anymore.

Peeta grunts as he tries to pluck her off the bath tub while her arms and legs flail wildly, splashing water at him. She gives a good fight, and knees him in the head, takes her curled fist and pounds it into his chest. Peeta huffs and commends himself for stretching his tolerance a little bit more, scolding her to keep from bumping her head against the wall as he struggles though the narrow hallway into her bedroom.

He settles her down in bed, making her sit cross-legged like him. He reaches out and wraps the towel around her as she shivers under his gentle touch, her bare chest heaving strongly underneath the damp fabric. Her lips are trembling from the cold and her hair is matted into her forehead and the sides of her face. He reminds her to catch her full breath back before he proceeds to tell her his side of the story, of what happened in a certain back alley in Louisville, starting from the very beginning when he was held at gunpoint by a robber and then coming across Cato Thorpe.

He dips his head low out of shame and disappointment. "I assassinate killers, con artists, drug traffickers. He names 'em, I kill 'em," he pauses, then forces himself to look up at Katniss. "Gale and I, we're ordered to terminate criminals working under the same boss."

Her eyes flutter, not in a blissful, romantic way, but on the verge of weeping brought on by mixed, conflicting emotions. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, whipping her head loosely from side to side.

"Peeta. Your life is in pending danger every single day, you can't keep living like this," her voice cracks in half and she whispers as if the room was not allowed to hear. "And I can't believe you hop around taking people's lives like it's nothing, regardless if they're crooks or not." She decelerates and tightens her grip around the towel. "Worst of all, you have a gun constantly pointed at the back of your head and you're so compliant to everything, like it's nothing!"

"Exactly! It's loaded, cocked and pointed at me so I had to do my job," he responds in a controlled angry tone. "I was promised to be protected by immunity throughout my contract."

"That's a load of bull! These people you're surrounded with, they're nothing but filth, and they're going to keep you on a leash until they're done with you!"

"Katniss. I strut around town, open my own snotty gallery in between killing bastards and at the same time repel cops from raiding my condo." There's authority in his voice and fire in his eyes and it takes Katniss aback. "That's what I meant by immunity. And the mob head bribes his way out of all types of hell."

"Yeah, that's comforting," she says sarcastically. He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head in fatigue.

She falls mute and curls further inwards, her face souring while she lets out quiet sobs and tears begin to trickle down her eyes. Peeta freezes as he watches her weep, his heart stuck in his throat, wanting to comfort her but suddenly too timid to touch her. Seeing Katniss broken down is a rare sight, and this alarms him. He hovers around her, feeling frustrated at his own confusion and helplessness.

"Geez, honey. Please don't cry," he moves and reaches forward, not exactly sure where he's placing his hand on her. He leans down and catches a tear between his lips. "Please..."

Katniss sniffs and pulls a hand out to wipe her chin. There is something that's been bothering her, nesting in the back of her mind. It may be the last piece of the puzzle she needs to finally fill in the gap that has been haunting her and her mother. "I heard my last name in that van, Peeta. Now listen to me, and listen well. I don't want to hear anymore lies," she pauses and her face distorts in pain. "Did you have any involvement in my father's death?" She looks like a wild, injured animal picked out of a swamp.

He doesn't waste a second to respond. "No! Katniss, never in my lifetime would I do or assist in anything that would potentially harm your family," he's almost not blinking, hint of red bordering his eyes. "I do intend to find out what's going on, I swear on my father's business." He clenches his jaws and looks as hard as stone, but there is softness in his eyes.

She feels betrayed, lied to, as if she was never good enough to know the truth. But she reiterates to herself that he went the distance of hiding this deadly sideline from her only to protect her, not to hurt her. With this in mind, her anger won't play a big part and she won't feel the subconscious need to punish him, and instead, she thinks of working towards a resolution with him. She lowers her head and nuzzles her nose into the towel, feeling Peeta's hand tucking away a damp strand of hair behind her ear. He continues.

"I know what I must do, and I've been trying to think of a way to get out of this avalanche of a mess." He takes his hand back from her and brushes it along his arm, suddenly feeling subdued. She is surprised by the chill in the air from his sudden detachment and he sighs. "Then again, I look at myself and see someone completely different. A bloodthirsty, combative, negligent shithead who has a constant itch to pull the trigger. And I can't stop, Katniss. It frightens the crap out of me."

Somewhere in her mind cautions her that she should be scared of him instead, but she wanders deep into the blue pool of his eyes, trying to break though to the rest of his thoughts. She inches closer, pulling the towel to enclose him with her. Their foreheads touch and she invites the tip of his nose to play with hers. "No more. I refuse to lose you to the mob, Peeta. Promise me you're getting out of this thing," she pleads, brushing her eyelashes against his skin. "It's for your own good, and mine, and Willow's. I want us to be safe."

"I understand Katniss, and I'm not planning to lose you again either, especially because of my affairs." he says, and there is a flash of positive on his face. "We can get out of here, live on the west coast. Maybe Santa Monica?" The way he brightens up is almost blinding, feeling a gush of hope and a spark of change to look forward to. "I've always wanted to live by the beaches."

Katniss smiles weakly, looking spent and jaded. "Peeta, California sounds like a great idea, but in the long run I wouldn't want to keep running away from shadows. I don't want to live in fear."

When Peeta reaches in to draw Katniss closer he forgets she's still naked under the towel. He lets his hands glide across the small goosebumps littered all over her arms and calves, inviting her to rest her head between the crook of his neck. Despite the surge of electricity he feels from accidentally grazing against her breasts, he remains free and defiant against any sexual thoughts and intent. He just wants to hold her close, and needs nothing more but to hear her heartbeat against his chest and the heat of her breath on his shoulder.

* * *

It's mid day.

He stands with his back on the exterior wall of the warehouse, also known as Cato's office, one leg angled more forward and the other one bent, the sole of his shoe planted against the wall. He takes a long sip of his steaming coffee in a cup and hisses as it streams down his throat, raising his other hand after to insert his lit cigarette between his lips. Something is brewing in his mind and he's on a mission to expose some old, well-kept secret, and with Cato being out of state at the moment, he figures this is the best time to poke around in normally restricted areas. He places his coffee on the ground and fishes out the cell phone in his pocket, quick dialing a contact. Today he decides to play dumb.

"Hey bro. I can't seem to get ahold of Cato," he chirps into the phone. "Do you know where he is?"

Gale seems to be out of it and yawns aloud, tossing in his bed as his blanket slides off and falls on the floor. He turns to look at the time.

"Ugh. Feels like there's a brick wall resting on my face," he groans as he sits up, scratching his eyes.

"Rough night huh."

Gale glances back at his girlfriend lying flat on her stomach and a row of empty Alize bottles on both end tables. "A bit too rough. I'll never drink again."

Peeta suddenly bursts into wild laughter that Gale had to move the phone away from his ear, his headache gradually multiplying as some veins in his temple start to throb.

"I call BS," Peeta sounds uncharacteristically exuberant, almost spitting into the phone.

"Whatever bro. Cato flew in to Utah to meet with this Cornelius Snow guy. I don't know, he's been talking about him alot lately, that ass-kisser." Gale says, almost amused. "Can you imagine Cato being a fanboy? Disturbing shit."

Peeta chuckles and then chokes on all the smoke shifting in his lungs. "Oh yeah, he has gushed about Cornelius Snow to me before. So I guess he won't be back anytime soon?," he tries to ask casually.

"I think he's heading back tomorrow, or in a couple of days. Not sure." Gale tucks the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches down for his pants on the floor. "You seem quite eager to work."

Peeta ends the conversation politely and thanks Gale for his time, darting looks over the pier and the parking lot before he fishes out a spare set of keys in his pocket that gives access to the warehouse. The one he 'borrowed' from Gale. The massive door creaks open as the strong smell of rust welcomes him home. He passes through aisles of oversized racks, merely a resting place for old truck parts and other rejected pieces of metal from other vehicles. He takes a deep breath before he steps closer to Cato's office door, glancing at the bigger silver key.

He pauses before he nudges the door open and curses at his heart to stop racing. He doesn't know what to look for, and how to begin, and decides to charge head first into Cato's desk. He grabs at different drawer handles and pulls them open one by one, gradually rushing in panic the more he finds nothing of significance. In the bottom of a pile of loose scrap papers, he could almost hear victory trumpets as he spots an all too familiar navy blue binder. He has always been curious about the binder because it is basically everything Cato ever refers to during their meetings, or whenever he blanks out on names.

By force of habit when it comes to reading magazines, he flips the binder open to the last page. He skims over Cato's handwriting sprawled across the width of the paper in a chaotic fashion, random phone numbers and addresses that were later on scratched off by thick black ink. Nothing is making much sense. The binder is a mere jumbled list of names. Appointments. Reminders. Cato's usual run-of-the-mill. He crinkles his nose as he sees an old picture of the two of them sitting on folding chairs by the edge of the pier, smiling and carefree. On a normal day through unsuspecting eyes, it almost appears like they're not criminals.

He sits himself in a more comfortable position on the floor, resting his back against a leg of the desk. He closes the binder, but he's not just about ready to give up on it yet. He decides to take another peek into the deep drawer where he found the binder in and pulls out the loose papers. He fans through it until something of a firmer material slips from the pile and escapes his grasp. He blinks at the back of the picture, its front landing on the floor.

The visual that he gets when he flips the picture over was the last thing he would dare envision, and it emits a small, startled gasp from him as he tries to absorb it in. It is a picture of Cato holding a crossbow resting on a stand, with a smug grin on his face and one eye flinching, looking at an angle away from the camera. It looks like he's aiming to shoot the arrow at something from far away. Beside him is the unmistakable Heath Everdeen, also hunched over a crossbow, but both eyes closed as if caught in the middle of a raucous laugh. Peeta's thoughts are running at full speed.

_Et tu, Heath._

_Big Daddy Everdeen. _

_How come Cato looks constipated._

_They were friends they were friends they were friends._

Peeta lets go of the picture as if it was suddenly set on fire. His head springs up, overly conscious and cautious of the rest of the room or who may be watching him lurk around freely in Cato's personal agenda. The floor somehow fascinates him as he starts to scour across it, thinking that there must be something more that is being concealed from the naked eye in this almost empty office space. He keeps close to the floor as he crawls around, and as he winces at the dark area underneath the desk, something metallic that is protruding from the wooden floor catches his eyes. He holds his breath as he loops two fingers around the metal knob and lifts up what looks like a small door that leads to the basement. A slight spiral of steps lead further into unknown darkness below as he places a foot down, and the other, until he finds himself descending into a different level of the warehouse.

He curses out loud as he crashes his toes into something solid, and fumbles around until he blindly turns a light switch on. Yellow light flows through the room, illuminating a vintage barrel sitting on the ground in which he swung his foot into. He raises his head and what is presented in front of him is a wall-to-wall storage of weapons, some stacked up on each other and some, specifically the fancy and more complicated ones, are isolated in their own appointed spot. He is magnetized to the section full of crossbows, models ancient and new showcased beside each other.

_Katniss would kill to see this. _

He slams his thoughts to a stop as he feels the need to bang his head against the wall. Katniss.

Before he's even aware of it, he is quick-dialling her number, pacing back and forth in Cato's giant weapon vault. Her voice fills the phone line.

"Katniss. The crossbow that your dad passed on to you. Where is it?" he tries to keep his composure and fails at it.

"Well I'm fine, thank you, and yourself?" she smiles as she veers her car to turn into a bustling street, head tilted up towards the small microphone suspended by the rearview mirror as she answers the call through the bluetooth system of her audio component.

Peeta is exasperated, pressing his fingers to his forehead.

"I just need you to check something on it really quick, please, now," he sounds stressed out like he's running out of time.

"But honey...I'm heading out to lunch."

"I'm sorry, and I'll treat you out to all the taco bells you want later..." he pauses to catch his breath. "Just please, make a U-turn and go home." His hand is gesturing wildly in the air, trying to convince her to do it as well.

She lets out a puff of air as she drives through the streets with a little more urgency, suddenly intrigued and intimidated by Peeta's fiery interest in her crossbow. His heartbeats are now up in his ear, and what he doesn't hear are the light set of footsteps above, walking through the warehouse dodging around the aisles.

She reaches her house minutes later and tears through the hallway, sliding the closet door open and placing the stool on the floor before stepping up on it. She stretches her arms up, reaching for a huge box on the top shelf and coughing at all the dust she hails. She gingerly sets the box on the floor and sits beside it, opening all the flaps and shutting her eyes for a second before she yanks the crossbow out of its peaceful slumber.

She remembers the phone in her pocket and holds it back up to her ear. "Peeta, what am I looking at?" she asks as her hand glides along the smooth and the cool of the crossbow, eyes alert for anything bizarre and distinct. On the main floor of the warehouse, the footsteps halt a few feet away from Cato's ajar door.

Peeta is holding a crossbow himself, held under wistful examination. "Flip the weapon upside down, and look at the handle very closely." He runs a finger across an engraving in the metal body. "What do you see?"

Katniss is now extremely anxious. "Peeta, what is going on?" Her hand is shaking, index finger feeling a slight dip, a small gap on the structure.

"Ok, you know what, just-" he shakes his head and is ready to give up.

"Wait..." she brings up the crossbow closer and lingers at the near tip of the handle. Her eyes squint at two letters that are almost masked, camouflaged into the metal. She presses her finger in between the engraving. "C.T. It says C.T."

Peeta's lips are moving but barely crafting any cohesive words. _CT is Cato Thorpe. Cato gave Heath the crossbow. Because they were friends. Of course. Friends give each other crossbows._

"Cato Thorpe..." he finally says out loud. The crossbow is returned in a dismissive manner before he scrambles for the stairs.

"Who's Cato Thorpe, Peeta?" Katniss stands up, telling her bones to move, leaving the box open and the weapon peeking out of it. There is a flaring kind of anger that is cooking up within herself for more questions that remain unanswered.

Peeta emerges from the basement door and ensures he closes it firmly, avoiding to leave any kind of trace behind. He refocuses on the binder he left open on the floor and violently flips through more pages, desperate for something, anything. He almost forgets Katniss on the phone line who is trying to trump down her rising temper.

He talks in an excruciatingly slow manner, like he's creeping around and about to jump out of her phone. "Katniss," he murmurs, feeling suffocated by the intensity he finds himself trapped within. "...I think your dad was a mob head."

Her laughter is borderline boisterous as it rings through the line, high-pitched and witch-like. It seems like too long a time before she sighs and begins to calm her flurry of bouncing thoughts.

"I think you've finally lost your mind," she responds, but her face is straight and devoid of emotions.

The pensive face is back on as he finds breathing a tad difficult. He takes the back of his hand and swipes at the sweat sparkling on his forehead. For some reason, he highly doubts that Cato shot Heath. If he wanted Heath dead, he would have assigned an employee to execute the task so he can remain clean and free of evidence that would link the murder to him. And knowing that Cato's empire is built on layers - movers and traffickers in the bottom, weak celebrity hitmen in the middle, and finally, him and Gale, zeroing in on a murderer or two, is like shooting fish in a barrel. He leaves Gale out of the equation, because he knows Gale can't shoot a damn, let alone handle a gun.

He freezes as he stops his hand from turning a page, spotting Gale's name all the way in the bottom of it, below three other names that ring familiarity. Gloss. Thresh. Boggs. All dead. He notices Gale is not really grouped under a definitive category, also more like Cato has run out of paper to write on. Which prompts him to turn the page.

Peeta is puzzled. He should be seeing his name beside Gale's.

He is leaving out a certain name, and it frustrates him that he can't put a finger on it. There is someone he is missing out of this mysterious web of a list. His hand shakes as he continues to flip another page over. Finally he sees his own name, all in big letters. Mighty Peeta Mellark. But he is caught off-guard by the name written beside his, someone he thinks does not remotely belong in the same tier as him.

Peeta pushes himself to speak as his mouth starts to form a word. "...Finnick Odair..." It takes all his breath to annunciate the letter K.

Katniss' eyebrows furrow at the familiarity. "What about your friend Finnick?"

In a spur of the moment Peeta drops the binder off of his lap, making a loud thud against the floor. He is sure of another presence in the room towering behind him as he feels the cool metal of a gun barrel pointed at him, digging in through his blond curls. He actually backs inches away from the gun so he could turn around to look up at Finnick, in his preppy vest and short-sleeve dress shirt over fitted brown corduroy outfit, smiling and handsome as usual.

Finnick raises his free hand and holds his palm out to stop Peeta from uttering any word, cocking the gun first as it hovers dangerously between his blue eyes. But Peeta is stubborn and has been very eager to tell Finnick something.

"I have a bone to pick with you, bro."

Finnick takes the butt of his gun and strikes it hard across Peeta's face. He crashes down and cringes in pain as he stares at his own droplets of blood marking the floor beside him. He hears nothing but his laboured breaths through his nostrils and everything turns black.

* * *

_Robert's got a quick hand_  
_He'll look around the room, he won't tell you his plan_  
_He's got a rolled cigarette hanging out his mouth, he's a cowboy kid._

_All the other kids with the pumped up kicks you better run, better run, outrun my gun_

_-Foster the People_


	13. Chapter 13: Bruise Purple

"Hello?..."

Silence swallows her whole as shivers of dread roll down her spine.

Her eyes zero in on a long scratch on the wall in full concentration as if waiting for a response from it, and lets out a pained gasp when she gets none. Her thoughts sit in elegant disarray, heavily underlined by panic of not knowing what happened to Peeta on the other end of the line. She presses her palm on her forehead, cursing at what feels like another threat of vertigo looming to claim her sanity.

She lets another second pass. Maybe he'll answer. Maybe she'll hear his voice again and he'll continue yapping about her glorious crossbow which apparently was not really even her father's, but from some stranger named Cato Thorpe. Through unsteady thoughts she tries to remember the recent conversation she had with Peeta, combing back through the lines and tries to recall the way he had defined Cato.

She was distraught when Peeta had no choice but to disclose all he's been keeping under the rug, but now it's slowly coming back to her that Cato is his boss. She wonders how her father ever came to know of him in the first place, and begins to question the kind of associations he had, let alone what type of shipping company he ran. A part of her is ridiculed that Peeta has put her dad and the word 'mob' in the same sentence, and the other part is trying to wrap her head around it, perhaps almost believing it.

"PEETA!" she screams in distress. The hand on her forehead lowers down to cover her mouth, the tremble of her lips accompanying the tremble on her knees. She begins to hiccup, a segue to an incoming round of sobs.

_Please answer._

The phone starts to beep as she is holding it pressed to her ear, notifying her of incoming text messages. It vies for her attention as she shakes her head, almost annoyed at the incessant sound it is making. She wouldn't want to miss hearing Peeta speak or make some sort of noise on the line. She is struck by her own desperation of wanting to hear him cough or choke, anything at all to indicate he is okay.

She finally brings her hand down to her eye level so she can look at the screen of her phone, wincing at the picture that is being sent to her at the same time the line is held hanging. At first she is confused, and she almost brings the phone even closer to her face but stiffens at the sight. She makes out a hand sprawled on the ground on an odd angle, palm up, fingers slightly curled in, and surrounded by a spray of blood. She gasps as the small hairs along her forearm stand on ends, almost dropping the phone at the initial shock. The second picture that appears on her screen confirms her feared theory much to her chagrin. The view only captures a close-up section of Peeta's face; an eye that is clamped shut, a bloodied gash underneath it, and dishevelled blond hair wild against unpaved concrete floor.

The phone slips from her grip as she looks to the walls for support to keep her standing upright. A wave of dizziness washes over her as her vision blurs, and the fast palpitation in her chest makes it hard for her to breathe. Seeing Peeta unconscious and hurt is too much for her to handle, but she refuses to be taken down by weakness and fright. Ultimately her legs falter underneath her as she lunges forward and falls on her knees, her hand feeling stapled to the wall.

_Help. Peeta needs help._

She figures it would make it easier for her if she only knew where he was.

Before she realizes it, she is suffering from another round of vertigo as she watches the walls surrounding her go for an intense spin. And within all the melting and blending of objects around her, the face of her mother materializes in an odd, artistic way. Like a painting of Edvard Munch. The lines are flimsy and blurry on the edges, and as she deciphers what looks like her mother's hands trying to hold her still by gripping her shoulders, she manages to push out one word.

"Peeta."

* * *

Even the lifting of his eye lids hurt. He is hurting everywhere. His cheek is in pain, his eyes, his head, his hands, his whole body. Also his legs. He tries to crack his jaws and it gives back a satisfactory crunch. His tongue is sandpaper dry and he is dehydrated, left with an aftertaste of blood in the back of his throat. It takes a while to realign his thoughts before he could remember where he is. Finnick has decided to turn off the light in the basement before bolting off and leaving Peeta knocked out for a good couple of hours. Peeta summons what is left of his strength to sit upright, struggling in the dark, and concludes that Finnick must've had a field day kicking him just about anywhere when he was already down and out. He grits his teeth as he leans back on the vintage barrel he booted around earlier, stretching his legs until he hears more of his bones crack.

The look of anger and disappointment on his face is insurmountable when he realizes his hands are bound by a rope behind his back. There is a five second delay reaction as he flails frantically, pushing himself into the barrel as he tries to wriggle his way out of the hold of the rope. He pants as he recalls that he was talking on the phone before Finnick cold-cocked him, making his legs act as hands as he blindly feels around the floor for his phone. After a bit he gives up on searching for his missing phone and cringes, thinking that Finnick has kept it with him.

He also wonders if it was Finnick's plan to leave him dying of dehydration in the basement. But then again, he remembers that Cato would be coming back soon from Utah, and entertains the idea that he might indeed be Finnick's welcome home gift for Cato.

In between planning his revenge and giving Cato a nice, crispy middle finger up in the air once they come face to face, a set of footsteps are clicking down the spiral steps into the basement. He freezes, almost holding his breath but at the same time, he can not wait to have an overdue discussion with Finnick about certain arrangements in this organization they're both involved in.

The light is flicked on, and what he sees is not Finnick's smug grin that he desires to punch, but a pair of long, skinny legs. Wedge sandals. A Louis Vuitton bag. Lime green sundress with giant white flowers. Topped off with luscious, wavy blonde hair of Glimmer.

He lets out a startled gasp and shrivels inwards, not expecting to be graced by a former lover's presence in Cato's warehouse, out of all places. She smiles sweetly at him and pauses before she inches closer, kneeling on the ground before him. She reaches out and attempts to fix the chaos that is his hair. He automatically moves away from her hand and flashes her a confused look.

"Glimmer...what in the hell are you doing here?" he says weakly, followed by a series of cough. She stares at him, her beauty almost looking ridiculous against the wall of weapons behind her as her background.

"Silly. I look after this office while Cato's away. You know, this place seriously needs a renovation and a lot of furniture," she pauses as she digs into her expensive bag. "I think I'm going to buy him a lamp, for his desk." She pulls out a bottle of water and wrestles with the cap, trying to open it.

"That's great. So what are you, his assistant now?" Peeta asks sarcastically.

"You can say that." She smiles again as she leans forward and offers him cool water, not giving him too much detail. He risks looking pathetic and pitiful and tilts his head to catch the rim of the bottle with his mouth, relieved at the touch and taste of water rushing down his throat.

He swallows water in big gulps, cursing at some that have trickled down his chin. How much he values water right now is beyond him. There is a feral look in his eyes as he leans back into the barrel and squints up at Glimmer while she places the empty bottle back in her bag. He watches as her hand continually feel her way inside and finally pulls out a mini Kleenex pack. She tears it open in haste and unfolds it before she hovers over Peeta, wiping all the accumulated sweat and grime off his face.

"...Are you seeing Cato?" he asks as she lingers over a corner of his lips, then continues to rub the tissue along his jaw. He has now earned new scratches on his face but looks relatively clean, his hair still untamed and so are his eyes. His mind is slow at the moment and he has to work twice as hard to make things click together.

"You can say that," she shrugs as she discards the dirty tissue over her shoulder. She slowly emerges from kneeling on the floor and flattens out the wrinkles on her dress. "Unlike you, he doesn't have any creative bone in his body, no artistic flair. But he's still manages to be kind of interesting, I think," she yanks one last item in one of the pockets of her bag and keeps it hidden, wrapped carefully in her hand. "He runs a mob."

As if on cue, Finnick glides his way down the stairs and loudly claps his hands twice, looking pumped up. He sidles close to Glimmer and she winks at him, her hand snaking around his back as she darts looks between Peeta on the floor and Finnick. Finnick whispers something into Glimmer's ear, making her giggle, and then proceeds to give her a quick kiss. Peeta's face moulds into more bewilderment which gradually transforms into repulsion as he looks away from them and focuses on the crumpled tissue on the ground.

"I see you two have met," Finnick says, almost mocking Peeta. Glimmer elbows him slightly in his stomach and he feigns looking hurt.

"Well this is kind of sick," Peeta blurts out quietly, disturbed at the fact that his ex-fiancee is sleeping with both Cato and Finnick at the same time, and without Cato knowing. "Not a very classy move, Glimmer."

She ignores him and maintains an innocent look on her face. "I heard a noise in here so I checked in and I was surprised that you've been hiding an old friend of mine," she looks at Peeta longingly and Finnick doesn't see it. "All helpless and alone..."

"Aww. Isn't she a sweetheart? I can't begin to wonder how you were able to let a good one like this go, Peeta," Finnick pulls her in and rests his hand on her waist. "Meanwhile your girlfriend right now, she's very annoying," he looks irritated, like as if she has been hassling him. "She's been calling and texting you in waves. But it's way more fun to have her all worried and in panic mode, don't you think?" He over-reacts to Peeta's phone kept in his pocket as it starts to vibrate again.

"You're a son of a bitch, Finnick," Peeta mutters under his breath but loud enough that Finnick catches his derisive tone. "Keep Katniss away from this."

Finnick lets go of Glimmer and steps forward.

"And a smart son of a bitch I am," he is suddenly serious and sounds flat. "I don't know why Cato hired you in the first place. I plan and execute my tasks way better than you," he flings his head aside and spits before he points at himself. "I was here before you, I was the main hitman. He tried to partner me up with you and I refused it. I can handle my own shit." He looks comically furious that there is almost steam coming out of his nose.

"I don't know what kind of favours you've done to the boss that he promoted you that steep from his driver to a hitman," Peeta smirks at him, and wants to laugh but chokes instead. "You're just a driver, Finnick."

Finnick almost lunges forward reflexively with curled fists but Glimmer grabs his hand and pulls him back, stopping him before he could give Peeta another beatdown.

"Finn? We have an early dinner reservation at my favourite French restaurant, remember? Come on, I'm starved," she doesn't let go and starts to push him away towards the stairs. Finnick actually conforms and turns around, shaking his head at no one in particular, stomping his way up the steps.

Glimmer waits until his shoes disappear completely onto the main level, taking a deep breath as she turns to look back at Peeta. She finally opens up her hand and approaches him, kneeling down again and leans in dangerously close. He catches a glimpse of the object she was concealing inside her palm; a tiny Swiss knife, and for a quick second he thought she was about to attack and stab him on the spot. She reaches around behind him, and places the knife in his bound hands.

"Take care Peeta," she whispers. "It's a mad world out there." Now that she has given him a means of escape, it's up to him to use it as efficiently and as quickly as possible. She stands up and starts to make her way out of the basement, subconsciously running her hand through her long hair.

"Why are you helping me, Glimmer?" he asks. "What's in it for me?"

Glimmer pauses and hangs her head before she slightly angles it to lock eyes with him.

"Nothing," she barely speaks, making sure her voice is turned down low. "Peeta, as much as you've hurt me I can't, for the life of me, watch you die."

She looks away and turns around, carefully stepping up the spiral stairs. "Think of this as a compensation for everything I lacked during our relationship."

The water settling in his system reinvigorates him, giving him a kick of renewed energy as he begs for his body to fully recover.

"Thank you, Glimmer," he calls out right before the remnants of her ascending shadow vanishes.

* * *

There is another flood of white light.

Katniss opens her eyes and is blinded by the colourless room, bringing her hand up to scratch the back of her neck and realizes she has tubes connecting to her veins, pumping liquid. A rosary is looped in many times around her fingers, clinching a handful of beads. She is overwhelmed by how conscious she is of her surroundings, and dances around a big gap she fell unaware of between having an episode of vertigo in her basement and suddenly finding herself in a hospital room. She has been reviving herself and then passing out the whole afternoon, glued to her phone sitting on the table whenever she's awake, not remembering much in between but she knows that Peeta is in danger.

_Hail Mary, full of Grace, our Lord is with thee._

She looks down on her phone, brooding at how empty the screen is of notifications. She sighs as she forces herself to sit up and studies the bland pattern of her blanket. She sniffs and stomps internally as she thinks she is wasting time, bothered by the urgency to get dressed and leave.

She does not feel weak. She wants to go hunting.

The tubes fling to the side as she detaches them from skin, eyeing her clothes folded on the chair by the door. As soon as she positions her legs off to the side of the bed, the doctor and her mother appear by the doorway to the adjoining room. Katniss grips the side of the mattress as she watches them talk among themselves, hunched over and in hushed voices. The expression of her mother is unreadable, and it makes her uneasy and curious.

The doctor stretches an arm and looks fatigued, picking at his glasses and folding its arms, hooking it into the neckline of his uniform. He is holding a clipboard, flipping papers before raising his head and glances at Katniss from across the room. Her mother joins him in staring as well, slightly fidgeting in her spot as she crosses her arms in front of her.

"Mom, I'm perfectly fine now. I really need to go..."

Her mother does not respond and remains still, merely observing her from afar. The doctor clears his throat before he leaves her mother's side and approaches Katniss in calm, calculated steps, the clipboard swinging on his side.

* * *

Cornelius Snow is in his mid 70's. He has remarkably managed to maintain his physical fitness and keeps a healthy, balanced diet through the years. He ensures he allocates time for a jog outdoors, and also likes to keep a treadmill indoors. His hair has grown longer and completely taken over by gray, wrinkles crawling across his face, highlighted by all the deaths that went through his hands.

He sits behind his desk in his rustic, one hundred year old Victorian style home in Utah, one of the many residential properties he owns across the States. Three men surround him, two standing on his left and one on his right, possibly a mix of his sons or nephews, two bodyguards by the door and one sitting slumped in a chair tucked away in a corner.

Cato sits across the desk and tries not to wince at Cornelius' silhouette, the late afternoon sun blasting from the high window behind him. Cornelius calms down from his obnoxious laughter and hails one of the guards in the back of the room, commanding him to fetch his golf clubs and an extra one for his guest.

"Do you like golf, Cato?" he asks cheerfully.

"Well, according to the infamous words of George Carlin, it's a meaningless, mindless, arrogant, elitist, racist activity engaged in primarily by white, well-to-do male businessmen who use the game to get together to make deals to carve this country up a little finer amongst themselves."

Cornelius is reduced to silence, gaping at Cato as he finishes quoting the late comedian's golf speech. Cato looks petrified as Cornelius' pending set of laughter begins internally, from the heaving of his chest and gradually escalates into a full-bodied guffaw.

Cato is relieved and finds a more comfortable position in his seat. "Therefore, count me in."

"I like you Cato. You mindless, arrogant, elitist fool." Cornelius wheezes to a stop and nods as a bodyguard politely places two golf bags by his feet.

While the two gather themselves up and prepare to leave for the golf course, the fax machine sitting by the wall starts to beep loudly and demands attention as it prints out a full-blown picture. A guard looks puzzled as he picks it up, sneaking a sideways glance at Cato. Cornelius dismisses everyone, telling him he will deal with business when he is finished with golf.

But Cato is able to catch a part of the picture the man is holding, and also spots his name on the bottom in huge, bold font. He steps forward and snatches the paper, his eyes widening and temper rising.

_ATTN: Mr. Thorpe_

The black and white picture is a dramatic, grainy, long-range shot of Peeta in front of his newly-opened art studio, walking under a streetlamp holding an upset Glimmer by the arm looking up at him.

* * *

Finnick drags Peeta off the basement floor and hauls him up the stairs, holding him by the collar of his blood-stained shirt. Peeta struggles to retain balance, ignoring the pain as he slams his head and shoulders against the narrow walls of the staircase. They emerge from the door embedded in the floor and marches to the outside of the warehouse, Peeta squeezing his hand closed over the Swiss knife courtesy of Glimmer. He had been sweating and working like a mule trying to slash the rope so he can break free, but the material of the rope is strong and the knife is not the sharpest and it took way too long for him to even make a dent.

_I am going to cut my way out of this rope with this knife and then I will cut him with it, regardless of how dull it is_. Peeta brews another batch of revenge inside his head as he lets out an exasperated air while Finnick talks about the weather and how it's always sunny in Texas at six pm. They leave the premises of the warehouse and cross the parking lot and its faded yellow divider lines, Peeta realizing that they're headed for the pier over the small field of grass.

On the end of the pier sit two folding chairs facing each other and inclined towards the water.

"Finnick-" he starts.

"That is right! We are going to watch this beautiful, orange-tinted sky and that glorious red sun dip behind those little puffs of clouds!" he gestures at the sky with bursting enthusiasm. "It could possibly be your last sunset too, so I want you to enjoy it," he grins at him. He pushes Peeta down into a chair and then takes two steps forward to stand on the very edge of the pier. The winds hailing from the sea ruffle their hair in an almost beautiful symphony.

"What do you think? Maybe I can get inspiration from my visuals here, and start painting sunsets like you did. Glimmer, I think she likes artsy-fartsy, painter guys like you," Finnick says while looking down at the water below them. Peeta decides to remain closed off and avoids entertaining this game Finnick is dragging him into.

Finnick turns around and claims the empty folding chair beside him, pulling a bottle of Bud Light from his pocket and twists the cap off. He offers it to Peeta by shoving it into his lips but Peeta swivels his head away, listening to water splash against the plank legs of the pier underneath.

"Don't be a hard-ass, Peet. Remember how I asked you and Gale to come out and have a drink with me? And remember how it never happened?" Finnick gives the beer bottle a slight shake as he holds it up in Peeta's face. "It sucks being ignored all the time. I just wanted to fit in, that's all. I hated being in shadows while Cato constantly pointed the spotlight on you and Gale."

"It's your lucky day. You can have all the spotlight you want. I quit."

"Hey hold that thought and save it for the boss!" Finnick takes the untouched bottle back after being ignored by Peeta and takes a full swig of it. He sighs in contentment and places the beer bottle down, quickly running a hand along the outline of Peeta's pistol nestled in his other pant pocket.

"I don't give a shit if I don't give him two weeks notice. I'm done with you assholes."

Finnick is amused, shaking his head and then flashes Peeta another soft smile.

"See, this is what's wrong with you, right here," Finnick is pointing at the air between them. "You have very poor work etiquette; Jump Now, Think Later. You have complete disregard to Cato's rules, so you keep putting him in hot water. The only reason why you're not dying in the back of an alleyway is because you're a good shot."

"Why thank you. Means alot coming from another straight shooter like you. The long-shot range you had of Heath, targeting his heart twice like that, that was on the money," Peeta glares at him, topped with an attitude as he tries to continue small talk while slicing more of the rope binding him.

"Oh Heath," Finnick clears his throat at the subject. "He was a notorious mob head. Even more so than Cato. Did you know that?"

"No. But I am interested, please educate me," he answers in a monotone.

"They were partners back in the day, best friends at some point, until Heath pulled away and decided he wanted to run his own domain. Heath was a greedy mofo when it comes to territories. This drug and weapon trafficking business, it's all about territories, Peeta. Cato moved away south to have a new start here in Texas, in addition to his stations in New York and Indiana, only to be followed again by Heath. He was such a good businessman, Katniss' father, that Cato was faced with minimal or no inflow of income."

"What happened to the rest of Heath's 'shipping' empire?"

"Cato bought them out. More than half of them are probably dead by now. Thanks to us, eh?" Finnick winks at him. Peeta's skin is starting to sting against the scratches from the rope as he tries to cut with the small knife. He winces when he accidentally inflicts pain on himself as he misses the rope and ends up cutting into his own flesh instead.

"Let me guess. I'm next on the list," Peeta comes into terms with the inevitable truth, composed and relaxed while watching a half sliver of the sun make a slow exit in front of them.

Finnick answers his question with another question. "Isn't karma such a jerk? But, here, let me tell you a secret," he pauses as he crosses over the gap between them and leans down on Peeta looking passive and bored. "I'm taking you out of the equation, I'm keeping Gale because he's harmless but useful, I'm stealing Cato's girlfriend, and then I'm going tediously plot his grisly death and I will take over this empire," he nods at Peeta, asking for approval.

"That's very nice. You _are_ a smart son of a bitch."

Finnick is still nodding when Peeta's phone hiding in his pocket starts to vibrate again. He fishes it out and looks at the screen, then shows the picture of Katniss flashing. Finnick slides his finger across the bottom of the screen to answer the call and switches the line to loud speaker function. Katniss' voice is of pure delirium, disturbing the peace by the pier.

"Peeta?!"

"Hi Kat," he answers as Finnick moves the phone closer to him, encouraging him to increase the volume of his voice.

"Peeta! What happened to you? Are you alright? I...I saw pictures of you, you're hurt! Did Finnick hurt you?! Where are you?" Katniss skids gracelessly over her words, luxuriating in hearing Peeta's voice again. One of her hands is clutching the steering wheel with death grip while she sits in her car, her rosary still coiled around her fingers.

"I'm fine honey. Just don't you worry your pretty little head."

"NO! I need you to tell me where you are."

"I can't have you here, and I can't have you call the police. Promise me you won't call the police."

Katniss pauses and sniffs, her voice thin and fragile. "I just want you home."

"Me too...but I'm kind of caught up in the middle of something here," Peeta glances at Finnick who is blinking at him and has a little pout on his lips. The light purple bruise under his eye slightly throbs. "But I'm good. I'll see you soon ok?"

Finnick snorts, his arm holding up the phone starting to feel cramped. '_You wish_', he mouths to Peeta and gestures at him to wrap up the conversation, thinking he's being a nice guy because he is letting Peeta talk to Katniss in the first place.

"Peeta...about your proposed move to California. I agree, I'm good to go. I think we should push through. I think we should get away from this place, as soon as possible," she sounds frightened, the proximity of the interior of her car trapping her voice so it booms loud and clear through the line.

"Honey, I'm so glad we're really planning to do this! We'll catch the waves, the palm trees, we might even come across celebrities!" Peeta says uncharacteristically vivacious and full of bounce. Finnick starts to move and reaches into his pocket, taking Peeta's pistol out and points it at his chest, resting the barrel of the gun on the armrest of the folding chair.

Katniss is whipping her head back and forth on the other end of the line, her lips quavering out of control while a small smile is trying to spread across. It almost hurts her. Tears form in her eyes while one escapes, flowing drastically down one side of her face. A series of emotions cross her face; surprise, euphoria and fear, all rolled into one. "You need to come back home, Peeta, and we need to get away from here, away from all this shit because I am pregnant."

* * *

_A/N: OK so I should've done my research first! Sorry to those who have noticed the discrepancy. And thanks Thundarrgirl for pointing it out :)_


	14. Chapter 14: Cardinal Red

_If I traded it all_  
_If I gave it all away for one thing, just for one thing_  
_If I sorted it out_  
_If I knew all about this one thing, wouldn't that be something?_  
_-Finger Eleven_

* * *

The world ceases from spinning on its axis and all he could hear is the uneven rush of air as he breathes through his nose.

In between Finnick planning to kill him and Katniss' highly startling revelation, Peeta could swear the earth stood motionless. He teeters on hysteria as he struggles to emerge over his own emotions that are pulling him down. Instead of giving away anything that could potentially show Finnick a variety of what he feels inside, he suppresses rapture and chooses to clench his jaws.

The sight of Finnick's face is almost worth a chuckle. His eyes are peeled off wide at Peeta, mouth hanging fully open as a corner twitches in exaggeration. Peeta is finding it hard not to kick him in the face when Finnick lets out a quiet squeal and his lips form the word '_Oh my God_', like he can't contain himself.

He watches hungrily after his cell phone as Finnick hangs it up abruptly while Katniss is still in the middle of her high-stressed pregnancy news. His eyes do not let go of the phone until Finnick pockets it in again, and he is finally aware that he has his own gun still pointed casually at him. Finnick is growing amused of Peeta's controlled, aloof expression.

"I'm assuming you are the father of the bun baking in the oven?," Finnick's eyes are glistening and so are his teeth. "What a tender moment. Congratulations. You're a daddy..."

As soon as Finnick mentions the word 'daddy', Peeta is hit with a gargantuan of a realization, bittersweet and blissful, wrapped in soft thoughts and fuzzy images of a flailing, bouncing baby. The fundamental thought of being a father overwhelms him and he is struck by how much he wants it. A vision comes to him; of Katniss in a flowing white wedding dress with flowers in her hair, and it emits a sound from him that is a cross between a sob and a choke. But the sparkling imagery is diffused by his flaring rage at Finnick, who is currently looking pleased and cocky at how much control he has over this situation and how one second can change everything.

His hand has furiously resumed slashing the rope now, unforgiving and urgent, the sharp stings from cutting into himself quickly being replaced by his burning need to knock Finnick's lights out.

"Listen. Katniss was able to raise Willow by herself for most of the years. I'm sure she could do the same with your kid," Finnick suggests, glancing at the water as if in deep contemplation.

Peeta is extremely disappointed and regretful by this stupid game he is tangled up in that it weakens him altogether, making him shrink inwards as he hangs his head in defeat. His shoulders heave slightly and Finnick could make out sounds that can only be of light sniffing, and by the time Peeta lifts his head to look at Finnick again, his cheek is marred by a single, slim trace of teardrop.

The stoic look on Peeta's face is gone, softened by whirlpools of caged emotions that broke their way out from behind the barriers inside, conflicting emotions that he can't quite categorize.

"Aww come on. It won't be that bad. Stop crying, the kid will turn out great, like you," Finnick tries to convince him, suddenly moving the gun away and pointing it towards the sea instead. Peeta is almost sure he is inching closer to the last threads of the rope as he feels the material loosening up around his bloody wrists.

"Don't you ever get that one wrong," Peeta is barely whispering, his slight Texan accent becoming more detectable. "I'm crying because you're an idiot..."

Finnick's eyebrows furrow at him as he cocks his head to the side. "What did you say?"

"I am crying because...," Peeta sniffs louder this time, but when he continues speaking, his voice is reduced down to a bare minimum. "...you're an idiot."

Finnick snorts. "I swear, bro, you have to speak up. This is not a prayer circle."

Peeta gestures for him to move forward and lean into him, as if he wants to talk directly into Finnick's left ear. To Finnick this is almost natural, keeping a conversation with Peeta within a close range, so he concedes. It is definitely not the first time they invade each other's personal space when they talk.

"I am crying, because..." Peeta repeats himself and pauses, still barely audible.

In a spur of the moment he swoops in, charging literally head first as he headbutts Finnick, catching him off-guard and making him drop the gun. Finnick lets out a pained huff and looks startled as if he didn't know what hit him, his hand quickly reacting and flying to cover the throbbing part of his forehead. He stands up swiftly that he makes his head spin even more, knocking back the folding chair with the back of his knees as he tries to remember where he is.

He has a dumfounded look on his face as he hazily watches Peeta emerge off of his chair after him, noting the scowl on his face. Peeta concentrates while he summons strength into his arms as he is finally able to separate his hands from each other, the rough material of the rope scratching away against his severely battered skin. He almost screams at the relief of stretching out his arms and aching wrists after being bound tightly together for an extensive period of time.

He steps back, compacting his fist into a ball and pulls before he lunges forward, targeting Finnick's eye, but what he doesn't realize is that the rope is still coiled loosely around his wrists. He is so excited to deposit his anger into Finnick's face that once he felt his skin could breathe again, he doesn't bother to shake completely free from it. The sliced end of the rope dangles halfway to the ground and as he pulls his arm back to stretch before hitting Finnick, the uncut section of the long material tightens the hold over his wrist again and stops him immobile from finishing his punch. He freezes halfway in mid-air, curled fist shaking, and before his face could mould into frustration, Finnick swings an uppercut into his chin and leaves Peeta staggering backwards.

He curses as he crashes painfully into the folding chair behind him, flattening it with all his body weight. While Finnick stalks a few feet across the narrow pier to reach him, who is squirming in a web of rope and broken chair and dried blood, Peeta lifts his ass up so he can loop the rope from underneath him and raises his arms until he is finally graced by the sight of his own hands. He winces with disgust and almost sobs at the bruises and slashes on his wrists, at the same time maintaining an eye on Finnick who is now lifting a leg angrily, positioned to kick him.

Peeta's fingers scramble to tear off the wretched rope and it gives way as it falls into a spiral all over his upper torso. While he is internally celebrating his full independence from the rope, he feels Finnick's shoe burying itself repeatedly into his sides, adding more bruises and probably arranging to injure half of his limp body.

Seagulls scamper and fly away towards the sea as Peeta searches the back of his throat and growls to boost himself up, yearning to block out the pain exuding from both of his wrists as he grabs Finnick's foot to stop it from being lodged forcefully into him. He attempts to yank Finnick down but he resists and maintains balance on his other leg, making Peeta's mind work desperately to figure out a way to counter. He thinks if his hands are too frail to function, he needs to use his uninjured legs. The chair he is spread thin over is poking into his back at odd, sharp angles.

As he holds a death grip on Finnick's right foot in mid-air, almost pulling it towards him but still keeps it at a distance; he packs energy into one of his legs and stretches it down to push hard into Finnick's standing left leg without reservation.

Finnick yelps as he finds himself doing a split and topples sideways, gravity claiming him as he falls over Peeta who is now more than ready to rise from idle. As Finnick closes the gap between them and prepares to hit Peeta in the nose as he falls down, Peeta greets him first with a curled, wound-laden fist and lands it snug in the area between his jaw and ear. He smears blood and drags it across his cheek as Finnick's head whips wildly to the side, choking as he clashes half on top of Peeta and half onto the wooden pier while his head ricochets like a boomerang.

Peeta takes a deep breath as he shoves Finnick off of him and flips over to locate his legs before he could gather himself together, picking up the destroyed folding chair as he stands upright. His knees wobble as he lifts the chair over his head before he pauses, and then gallantly swings it down and whacks it across Finnick's pretty face.

"I said…," Peeta grunts as he trembles with excitement and pent-up rage, bashing the chair right back but into the other side of Finnick's face this time. "…you were an idiot!"

Finnick chokes some more, eyes blinking rapidly as he manages to flash Peeta a confident grin.

"You got some balls to call me that since you're the one who's been clueless about everything in the past three years," Finnick wheezes out of breath by the end of the sentence. "I should've killed you already Peeta. I should've messed up the boss' agenda, the way you did all the time.

Peeta chuckles and shakes his head, mainly at the brave smile that Finnick insists on showcasing to further piss Peeta off.

"Here. Let me help erase that stupid ass smirk off your face," Peeta says, as if there is no other way, and the chair comes barreling down from high heavens and smashes hard into a dismayed Finnick whose mangled lips straighten into a line.

The overused folding chair is now tossed aside as Peeta looms over Finnick, who is writhing on the floor and spouting lazy trails of blood out of his mouth.

* * *

Katniss is ripping the roads doing almost twenty over speed limit without realizing it, her mind overly-active while her hands think separately and continue to move the steering wheel on its own. She can hear her own heartbeat up in her ear as she winces at the sudden red light in front of her. Her thoughts are consistently covered with a layer of prayer.

_Our Father, Who art in heaven_

Without her permission, she receives waves of flashbacks of the time she first met Finnick during the premier opening of Peeta's art studio. The kind of impression that Finnick left was that a soft-spoken gentleman geared with kind words and compliment. She also had the idea that he was somewhat of an art aficionado, in which he can read and articulate art well, just like Peeta.

_Hallowed be Thy name_

The fear that bubbles inside her is gradually boiling into resentment.

She once told Peeta she refused to lose him to the mob. She hopes he remembers when she told him that.

_Thy kingdom come_

Her eyes steal a sideway glance at the passenger seat.

* * *

Miraculously, and out of nowhere, Peeta is starting to feel squeamish from the sight of a blood-smothered Finnick squirming on his back. He turns around and perks up at his gun, suddenly clicking in him that Finnick had dropped it there in their earlier scuffle. The gun sits lonesome, hugging the edge of the pier a bit too tight.

He takes three steps and bends down to reach for it, contemplating that a gunshot wound to the head would probably be the best and most efficient way to finish Finnick off. He is surprised he is still wriggling on the floor after he almost destroyed his skull. He laughs inside, thinking Finnick is just like a cockroach. The thing doesn't die so easily.

Just as he is about to swivel around to have another meaningful conversation with Finnick, Peeta could feel the flesh of his calf muscle rip apart as it gets stabbed through his pant sleeve. He tilts aside and glares at Finnick who has sneaked towards him by crawling. He is lying on his stomach and in the middle of jabbing the Swiss knife he picked up on the pier into Peeta's leg. Not content with a shallow stab wound, Finnick tries to drag it across to inflict more pain on Peeta but the knife is almost blunt and he loses handle over it as it drops on the floor. Much to his chagrin, he realizes he can't exert more energy to shove it in further into Peeta's leg.

Peeta fumbles and his balance is thrown off, dropping the gun again in the process, falling on one knee as he hisses at Finnick. He swoops down and grabs him up by the collar, making Finnick stretch some under-worked back muscles. Peeta pummels away, interchanging between Finnick's stomach and face using his curled fist while Finnick counter attacks with swiping the knife at any of Peeta's exposed skin.

Both men gasp in agonizing pain as they start seeing flashing lights behind their eyes, tinged with a shade of red, just like the sky above them. Dusk looms and the sea is devoid of seagulls and wind, the air heavy with pending death. Peeta heaves as his hands continue to throb while swinging left and right hooks at Finnick, who does not have much offense but has proven to be quite resilient.

"Tell me, Finnick, do you know how to swim?" he asks as he pushes Finnick an inch over the edge of the pier, some drool mixed in with blood dripping from one side of his mouth.

"Fuck yeah. Like a champ. Like Tom Daley, fool," Finnick answers breathlessly.

"…Nah you can't be that good," Peeta merely gives him a light slap across his forehead. "Wrong answer."

Finnick has a sheepish look on his face as he brightens at an idea, one hand still wrapped around the knife while the other one is trying to strangle Peeta. "The million dollar question is; do _you_?"

The roaring sound of a car screeching to a halt demands both their attention as their heads dart up to look at a small and nimble Corolla sitting half-assed on the end of the parking lot, where the patch of grass that leads to the pier begins. Katniss jumps out of the car and quickly scans the whole area, and stands motionless as soon as she spots Peeta and Finnick on the far end of the pier.

_Katniss. No. Katniss. No._

His heart is racing with his mind and it wants to shut down the rest of his body.

Peeta looks like he's having the grandmother of all nervous breakdown as he detaches himself from Finnick and struggles to stand up, all his bones and reason protesting. He is shaking his head wildly, and wonders where all his breath had gone to because he can't seem to get himself to speak so he could tell her to go away.

Katniss begins to move and her legs want to take her over to the water, but her feet are planted firmly onto the concrete. She squints as she slowly realizes the scenario ahead of her, and the sight of Peeta almost unrecognizable under the bruises and blood and sweat makes her heart drop to her stomach. She almost lurches forward while she covers her mouth, his name a faint murmur through her lips.

Suddenly, Finnick materializes tall behind Peeta and snakes one of his arms around him to keep him still, while the other hand holds the length of the dull knife and digs it into Peeta's neck, peeking comically over his shoulder at Katniss.

She takes a deep breath and tiptoes away from her car, slamming the door shut. And as she pulls further away from the car, the two men gawk at her with hanging jaws and widened eyes when she dramatically reveals the arm she is keeping behind her back.

Equipped with gloved hands, she swings her crossbow around and positions it at her eye level, squinting at the colliding heads of Peeta and Finnick who look awestruck and threatened at the same time. Peeta is overcome with heavy fatigue as he wiggles, trying to break free from Finnick's grip, his strength nearly depleted from their brawl.

Finnick chuckles like a mad man.

"Hey, it's Heath Junior," Finnick breathes into Peeta's ear.

"Drop it, Finnick," Katniss shouts calmly. She pulls an arrow back and holds it there, distracted by the shaking of her hands. She curses at the fact that she hasn't practiced using her crossbow since her father passed away, and for a long while she could not even bring herself to look at it.

Peeta demands to be heard. "Katniss! Get the hell outta here honey…" he falters as he begins to gasp for air. "Please…"

"Oh you two, stop it, this is making me very emotional," Finnick voice softens. "And that says a lot."

She is caught unaware by her own hands as she lets an arrow go, whizzing through the distance between them. Her accuracy is embarrassingly nonexistent as she misses Finnick muscling it out with Peeta on the tip of the pier, trying to get out of its way. She grimaces at the arrow landing in the water, and at how careless she thought that was because she could have shot at Peeta instead.

But that doesn't discourage her from lifting her bow again and squinting at the bronze haired man, or what she could see of him. Peeta is completely covering him in the front, and it also doesn't help that he keeps tossing around. She places another arrow on the arrow rest and slips in a prayer.

"Missed by a mile, sugar," Finnick says happily. He pauses as he turns to spit into the water. "Did you ever wonder why your dad was abnormally religious?"

Peeta has stopped fighting back and has fallen eerily calm under Finnick's hold and he doesn't even notice.

"There's nothing abnormal about having strong faith in God," she retorts, her nerves starting to slow down.

"He was a repeat sinner, he knew it. The moron thought it was okay to disappoint God all over and over again because he thought walking into a confession booth can redeem him." He subconsciously presses the knife a tad deeper into Peeta's skin. "Begging to have his soul saved."

"Yeah? Good for him," Katniss offers him a smile. "At least he walked out of church with a clean slate. Trimmed devil horns, huh?"

Peeta takes advantage of this moment to scan the mess they have made on the pier. A pile of rope a couple of feet ahead of them, the dented and bloodied folding chair laid out underneath the rope, the other folding chair still in mint condition, knocked backwards. He can't locate his gun. He concludes it must be somewhere behind them.

"Your father was a powerhouse of corruption. Feared and loathed and respected, just the way he earned it," Finnick glamorizes her father. "Someone had to take him out."

"I hope to God He pardons my French, but you're a piece of shit Finnick," Katniss feels thin and tense and one of her eyes closes as the other winces to focus in on her target.

"It was my pleasure. Killing your father was my best accomplishment," he says as a matter of fact.

Katniss is now quivering in outrage and wants to run into Finnick to skewer his throat instead.

Swiftly and unannounced, Peeta jerks his head backwards, amped with the last ounce of his strength as he jams the back of his head and crushes it into Finnick's face. He shakes free from him as he lunges forward, but as he staggers away, the knife held at his neck slightly buries itself into his skin and it leaves a shallow scratch across. Finnick pulls backwards as he grunts, stunned as he blinks and sees a screen of black.

While Finnick slowly tips over the edge of the pier, Katniss doesn't think twice and sends an eager arrow flying and aimed into his heart, omitting Peeta out and the rest of the visuals in front of her until it's just a clear view of Finnick. Peeta lets out a nervous huff as he ducks out of Katniss' aim as she proceeds to lodge another arrow and pierces it straight into Finnick's heart again. Two arrows stick out, the arrowheads embedded comfortably in his chest. Katniss lowers the crossbow and subconsciously takes two steps in reverse, apologizing to a saint in another set of prayer.

Peeta watches in half horror as Finnick's eyes roll upwards, instantly dead before he could even begin to take a plunge into the water below them. As Finnick's defunct body elegantly falls backwards, Peeta's attention switches back to Katniss, intrigued by a noise coming in, speeding from behind the warehouse.

A black car rolls in and stops a few yards away from her, its car doors kicked open as two masked men jump out. She catches the alarmed look on Peeta's face and she turns around, gaping as the men move to pull their weapons from inside their jackets. Peeta's mind leaps and frantically grabs his neglected gun still sitting on the edge of the pier, a few splashes of water hitting his face as Finnick finally gets swallowed by the sea, diffusing a harsh shade of red in the water.

Peeta whips around, gun in hand, and shouts at Katniss.

"Katniss! GET DOWN!" He sounds frightening, his voice scratchy and an octave lower. He raises his hand gripping the gun and points it at air, taking giant strides off the pier while wearing a straight face.

Katniss breaks in cold sweat and is overwhelmed from seeing too many guns pointed at her; two from behind, and the one that Peeta is waving around while he screams.

"MOVE!" He spits in distress as his finger twitches over the trigger.

She stubbornly swings her head back to the masked men who are lifting their arms and exposing their rifles, one of them zeroing in on Katniss and the other one on Peeta.

Katniss' lets go of her crossbow and her knees fold in automatically as she falls limp, hit with the urgency of having to be extremely close to the ground. Peeta is still galloping towards her in collected steps, looking angry at the world, and she marvels at how suddenly, the movements around her are trickling down to a sluggish pace. Her eyes shut when all the noises drown out completely from her system and she is left with haunting, sharp silence. She feels her back hit the ground as her hands come up to cover her ears as two shots are fired, but she has no sense of direction where the bullets are released from.

The two bursts of explosion are followed by the sick sound of two bodies slamming into the ground. She peels her eyes open and suppresses herself from vomiting as she sees the masked men lying down a small distance from her, shot in the head and bordered in by their own blood. As she turns away she sees a hand trying to reach for her, and she feels herself rise up.

Peeta's mouth is clamped shut and merely drags her across the parking lot in rushed steps, staring at her car. Katniss starts to take off her gloves and observes him from an angle, darting a quick glance at the crossbow she decides to leave behind in the crime scene. She is curious as to what Peeta is thinking because he looks like he's about to break.

"I can't believe you did that. This is a deadly game, Katniss, this is not a fucking party you just walk into fashionably late," Peeta looks utterly disappointed, and sneaks a peek at her stomach. He goes from disappointed to blissful to batshit angry in two seconds. "And, god, you're pregnant!"

Katniss' face sours as she scowls at Peeta from behind his head.

"Aww, honey. You're welcome and it was an honour contributing to your survival, you BIG MEANIE!" She curls her fingers in and squeezes Peeta's injured hand to further infuriate him.

He winces and, "Ow! Sweet, son of a—"

"No swearing in front of your son and or daughter. It can hear you. I wouldn't want them to have a potty mouth like yours."

"Katniss. You're driving me up the wall. You're pregnant…" he repeats, as if he's still trying to absorb all the shock and joy in.

Out of nowhere he pulls her into an embrace, burrowing his nose into her neck and she is certain he is sniffing her skin off as his free hand rests gingerly on her flat stomach. He stops himself from gleefully saying "_We're going to have a baby!_" out loud and suddenly detaches himself from her.

He continues to celebrate internally but covers the twinkle in his eyes under a hint of bravado. "…You're not supposed to be shooting arrows around like that and getting yourself in situations where you could've, I don't know, DIED?!" Peeta looks animatedly furious it's almost laughable.

"Oh I'm sorry. I only didn't want your neck sliced open, nor see you flounder to the bottom of the sea," she declares with a quick streak of hurt on her face. "Did I step on your ego?" Her voice is rising with each word.

"Damn it, Katniss, I can't risk losing you! If something bad happens to you, I will never be able to forgive myself," his eyebrows furrow at the ground. "I'll probably shrivel in a corner and die from self-hatred." He somewhat gestures to the space in his left.

They reach the car and Katniss merely glares at him while she picks her car keys out of her pocket. Peeta yanks his cell phone out of his pocket and dials Cato's number, looking dismayed when he gets his voice inbox. Katniss opens the car door but stands still, crossing her arms in front of her while watching Peeta almost throw his cell phone away when he dials for the second time and Cato still doesn't pick up. He tries again one last time as Katniss bends over to sit in the driver seat of her car, looking through the windshield and at nothing in particular.

Peeta turns around and clears his throat. He has no other option but to leave a message for Cato.

"Hey Cato. How's Utah? Anyway. I have made a couple of major revisions to your hit list. You may want to review it and perhaps change your objectives and planned targets," Peeta pauses to sigh out loud. "I revised the shit out of that list, I gotta tell you. It has been great three years working for you, and now I think it's time I venture out and see what else is out there for me, look for growth in new environment. Besides, there is no team spirit within your staff, your workplace is literally a dump, you're a rat bastard, and your pay rate per kill sucks. I quit!"

He hangs up the phone and jumps into the passenger seat, slamming the door close right before Katniss pushes down the gas. She swerves side to side as she looks for the exit out of the vicinity of the warehouse, and by the time they're out on the street, she is looking at him with slit eyes.

"Would you like to be a manly-man and drive my car also? Do you doubt my girly little legs could reach the pedal?" she asks, heavy with attitude.

"Alright Katniss, settle down," Peeta pleads in an exasperated tone. He looks out the window and rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm tired as hell."

Katniss exhales as her expression falls, and for a second she looks like she's about to cry.

"I just..." Katniss hiccups and then shakes her head, hypnotized by the back light of the car in front of them. "I want normal, Peeta. I know it's painstakingly boring and ordinary and there's lack of adrenaline rush in what I consider exciting...but I'm okay with normalcy."

The longest minutes unroll and let them simmer in much needed silence. Peeta runs a tired hand down his tired face. He almost forgets he has a small stab wound on the leg when it begins to throb for attention, glancing at his blood-stained pant leg and suddenly he's had way more than enough.

He takes in a lung full of breath. "That's what I want too. Listen, I'm going to be avoiding my condo and will be staying in a hotel for the next couple of days. I want you to pack up and I will book our flight to Kentucky. I will only call you with the details of the flight. I need you to make sure Willow stays at your mother's, and tell her not to take her outside that much." "We need to get out of here for a bit."

What he leaves out is the colossal amount of danger they're still in, and he will ultimately need to encounter the wrath of Cato Thorpe.

"Ok. Kentucky sounds normal. Kentucky sounds good," Katniss nods.

It feels like the first time in a long time when he allows his lips to break into a smile, glancing at Katniss driving focused and unruffled. He reaches out with his nearly pulverized hand and places it on top of Katniss' on the steering wheel. She looks at his hand and gives him a sad pout.

"This is going to be unhealthy and I will probably kick myself later for this, but wanna grab takeout from Taco Bell before I fix up your hands and your leg?" she recommends, a flickering light seeping through her eyes.

Peeta's smile widens that it literally hurts his bruised cheek.

"Taco Bell is normal. Taco Bell sounds good," he nods as well. He is looking around in the car now. "Here, let's listen to FM radio. Radio is normal!" He is really getting into it and starts to play with the audio component, pushing and turning different knobs on the dashboard. He stops at a station, recognizing Josh Turner's voice. Country music fills the space in and they sigh in unison as they sit back and watch the traffic they're currently stuck in with simple contentment.

_"I've been thinking 'bout this all day long. Never felt a feeling quite this strong_  
_I can't believe how much it turns me on. Just to be your man"_

* * *

_Manuntok man ng tao, basta ba nasa katuwiran ito_  
_Manapak man ng gago, basta't di ba basagulero_  
_Ang tipo kong lalake, maginoo pero medyo bastos_  
_-DJ Alvaro_

* * *

**A/N: Writing action sequence is exhausting. It's almost like writing sex scenes.**


	15. Chapter 15: Envy Green

_I'm so tired of playing_  
_Playing with this bow and arrow_  
_Gonna give my heart away_  
_Leave it to the other girls to play_  
_For I've been a temptress too long_

_Give me a reason to love you_  
_Give me a reason to be a woman_

_I just wanna be a woman_

_-Portishead_

* * *

Friday night, the night before their last minute trip to Kentucky finds Katniss in her mother's apartment, explaining the details of her return flight on Monday. Strangely enough, her mother merely nods at her rules and requests, and casually asks if she and Peeta are staying at his parents' house. Katniss entertains the small talk and answers the inquiries thoroughly, wondering why her mother is uncharacteristically compliant.

Katniss towers over Willow sleeping soundly in the bedroom, pulling the pink blanket up to cover her neck. She leans down and kisses her in the forehead and quickly nuzzles her cheek, whispering hints of baby talk and gibberish. A part of her feels bad for wanting to wake her up just so she could say goodbye. Willow fusses and flutters her eyes open, squinting at Katniss with a pensive face.

Over breakfast the day before, Katniss had broken the news to her that she will have another baby. At first Willow was confused, highly intrigued and curious as to how a baby ever happens in the first place. Katniss merely swerved the conversation to storks and magic and tells her that she will now be a big sister. Willow was ecstatic.

"Mommy. I have a sister?" Willow asks the same question again, groggy under hooded eyes.

"Yes, or a brother. We don't know yet!" Katniss says as she tucks away strands of Willow's hair behind her ear.

"Mommy, I'll share toys. I'll give my Pooh bear…" her face is somewhat looking for approval. "…I'll make lots of bracelets. We'll blow bubbles, and make puppets…" she trails until she has to let out a ferocious little yawn.

"That is very sweet of you, honey. Daddy and I are very happy and proud of you becoming a big sister."

Her mood falls as disappointment flashes in her gray eyes. "I miss daddy. He doesn't paint with me anymore." Her lips begin to quiver as she blinks up at Katniss.

"Daddy is very busy lately," she pauses and exhales a long drag of air. "I will see him soon, and we'll go away for two days, and then we'll be back. Ok sweetheart?"

"Ok mommy," Willow agrees and rubs her cheek against the soft fabric of the blanket.

"He wanted to tell you he misses you a lot, and that you're always his stinky-poo."

Willow's lips curl into a smile as she stretches out an arm, gesturing to Eeyore sitting on the end table. Katniss picks it up and hands it over to Willow, her expression brightening as she gives the stuffed toy a lazy squeeze.

Katniss leaves the room and closes the door behind her, stepping one foot in the hallway and almost springs back in alarm at seeing her mother watching her from the other end of the hallway. Katniss lets out a breath she doesn't realize she was holding and approaches her slowly, geared with questions itching to be asked.

She has had enough of surprises and secrets, and now she demands the luxury of the truth, regardless of how ugly and dirty it is. Her mother crosses her arms in front of her, something she seems to be doing a lot lately. Her body language is defensive but her expression is mildly composed.

"Mom, I need you to remember something…"

"I want you to take care of yourself, and your baby. I'm worried about you," she completely ignores what Katniss is trying to extend.

"…do you know if dad ever hid any weapons in our old house besides our crossbows? Do you have any memory that stands out when he was particularly behaving oddly, or if he had shared any stories with you about his work…"

Her mother shakes her head, and does not seem to be bothered that Katniss has just mentioned anything about weapons. "Katniss, I have no idea why you're asking these questions. I don't remember anything. I'm too old and too tired to care."

"…do you remember any men that he invited to come over for dinner, what their names were, how in the hell he got his crossbows…" Katniss continues to charge in without breaks, her words smooth albeit accentuated by panic.

"Katniss! Stop it! Why are you asking me these nonsensical things?!"

"Mom!," Katniss trembles and glances down at her own hand that has seized her mother by the wrist without her realizing it. "Was dad a criminal?"

Her mother's face quickly moulds into denial and shock at first, and gradually softens into admission, raising her chin at Katniss. She yanks her hand back from her grip and subconsciously runs a thumb over her wrist.

"Your father ran a very peculiar shipping company. It wasn't the most honest one in town either."

Katniss is flinging her head from side to side, her face screwed in frustration. "I can't understand how you can't be completely honest with me, mom." She is agitated and begins to wonder if anything is irreparably wrong with her, fuelled by the fact that she feels constantly robbed of the truth.

"My child. It seems you already know. And how you came to know, I don't even want to know. But there are things in life that should be kept in the dark and die and rot there in time, because it deserves to." She carries a look of failure mixed in with resignation. After a pause that dragged too long, she looks away from Katniss. "I'm afraid we will never get justice for your father's passing."

Katniss rubs an unsteady hand across her tearless eyes and takes a deep breath, internally disagreeing. Maybe her mother is right. Maybe some truths are so revolting that it needs to be covered under a lie. She refrains from telling her the name of the man who has murdered her father and that that she has killed him, whiplashed by a barrage of uninvited irony, suddenly feeling like the world's biggest hypocrite. She refuses to share the fact that she has avenged her father by causing death herself, under her own hands.

"I looked up to him, I believed in him. This goes against everything I knew about him," and at that exact moment, Katniss' heart breaks a little bit more.

"Do you have any idea how difficult it was to live with a blind ear and a blind eye towards everything I knew about your father's involvement in crimes over the years? How every single solitary day I was dreading the time that he does not walk in through the door by the end of the day? " her mother asks, her layers of strength shining and at its peak. But she is betrayed by a single tear that suddenly gushes out of her eye.

"I'm sorry mom…" Katniss hangs her head as her mother turns on her heels and treads to the living room before she is able to show the rest of the emotions on her face. She sits on the couch and curls in the corner as if she's being punished, hugging herself and studying her toes against the carpet. Katniss leans against the wall by the opening of the hallway and peers at her mom before she picks up her bag on top of a drawer.

She fidgets in her spot uncomfortably, and before she moves to the door, her mother resumes speaking to her from across the room.

"After all is said and done, he was your father, Katniss. And I loved him. I hated the choices he made, but God forbid, I still loved him, very much."

"…I'm so sorry," Katniss runs out of words and skids over the stinging in her chest. In a cobweb of glowing childhood memories raised by a loving father who was upheld by a strong faith in God, she finds it difficult to accept that he was a monster of society.

"When your father died, I died too…"

Katniss chokes as she hastily drops her bag back down on the drawer and takes wide strides to reach the couch. She kneels on the floor in front of her mother and pulls her into something that is overdue, an embrace; a small gift she has deprived her mother of during the times she wasn't there to comfort her because she was too occupied tending to her own sorrow. Her mother is caught off guard by the affection her daughter is displaying, and scolds herself when she thinks twice before placing a hand on Katniss' back.

* * *

A small bright dot behind a screen of cloud bleeds the most magnificent hues of orange married with red, a stunning and almost ominous visual that Katniss would classify as something from the pages of the Book of Revelation.

The past few days are not treating her well at all, and she's not sure if she can handle any more exposure of secrets, dark and old buried in time. She accumulates the pain nesting in her heart and decides to waive it all off, trying to keep a positive outlook on things rather than have old friend misery run and take over her mind.

She has collected Finnick's dues, she considers it an accomplishment that she has bonded with her mother, she still has Willow, and she is trying to fall back naturally into that once familiar groove with Peeta.

"Mind over matter. Mind over matter," she repeats inside her head as a mantra. The sky is lit with fiery colours as the sun spreads its warmth, and she welcomes the amount of sunshine that graces her face with a small smile.

Just as an airplane pulls in and parks outside, her cell phone beeps. Peeta sends her a text message to say he had just arrived, standing by the main entrance. Katniss gathers herself up and her belongings, dragging her small carry-on luggage with wheels across the busy airport floor.

As soon as she spots a blond set of hair undulating within the sea of travelers, she stops on her tracks and waits until crowd parts in half ahead of her. A train of suitcases roll by and all that is left is Peeta standing still, too occupied darting looks from left to right. One of his hands is holding a duffel bag; the other arm is folded in behind his back, and tucked between his armpit is something Katniss makes out to be a wrapped medium-sized frame. Katniss has an amused look on her face as Peeta struggles to step forward to meet her and finally brings his arm to the front, raising a hand in the gap between them and offers her a small purple wildflower.

Katniss cringes at his bandaged hands in sympathy, concluding that he chose to wear long sleeved jean jacket only to hide all the layers of bandages around his badly injured wrists.

"Hi Katniss. I'm very sorry for yelling at you the other day and getting mad. But I was mad because I could've lost you, and I ain't having none of that. I should be thanking you for saving my behind," he nudges the flower closer to her and she chuckles before accepting it. "I love you. I'm still a little bit mad, but I love you."

Katniss breaks into a grin as she looks down and gets a quick whiff of the flower. Her eyes roll up to peek at Peeta who is watching her intently, possibly waiting for a sign of forgiveness.

"I accept your apology," her fingers begin to twirl the little flower around as she looks at him straight in the eye.

"I was going to give you something nicer like roses but I don't think it would go past Customs or security."

"Well, we're just flying domestically. Not sure how strict the airport is with flowers, but if anything they must be declared, I think."

"Oh? If that's the case then, these are for you." He moves to reach behind his back and plucks off three stemmed roses shoved into his pocket. "That was probably the most awkward ten-second walk from the main drop-off outside. My ass was being pricked by thorns." He flashes her a pained look and starts to rub his butt.

Katniss gives her a sad look but her eyes are laughing. "What's that you're holding right there?," she gestures at the rectangular mystery item.

"This is for my mother. I painted her most cherished garden," he glances down at the canvass wrapped in plain white paper. "I used to eat cherry tomatoes right off the vines she grew and she'd totally lose it. Some days I was sure she cared about it more than she cared about me," his head dips in mockery he inflicts upon himself and snorts.

"I'm sure your mother loves you, Peeta. Just not in the exact same way you wish she did, but she loves you nonetheless," she says, wrapping a protective hand around the roses and the lone wildflower. She begins to turn on her heels to proceed to check-in and Peeta follows, ensuring that he has his duffel bag and the frame.

"I don't know, Kat. With my luck she'd probably give me a slap across the face instead of a hug when she sees me at the door."

"Honey, that's terrible. Don't say such thing," she takes his self-deprecation lightly and glances at him from the corner of her eyes. There is a thin veil of melancholy he has somehow quickly managed to wrap himself around and she is taken aback by it, topped with a huge dark cloud hovering over his head. She churns the insides of her brain to come up with a distraction. Anything to take his mind off of his mother and how unloved she makes him feel until this very day.

Katniss slides into a stutter and hides it under a small choke. "Uhh…were you rushing this morning or was your outfit planned at all?" They both stop behind a short lineup of people.

"Huh?" Peeta's eyebrows furrow at the sudden change in topic.

"You're uhh…you're wearing jeans on jeans. Jean jacket with jean bottoms?" Katniss' eyes roll downwards at him.

"So? The heck is wrong with that?" he pauses and looks down to analyze himself. The usual cool and suave Peeta Mellark has never looked this confused before.

"I don't know. It's kind of tacky. You're all jeaned-out, that's all," Katniss says casually and shrugs like it's nothing.

"Katniss. I am going to see my family who is basically blind when it comes to fashion. I am not, unfortunately, going to see Kristin Kreuk nor Miranda Kerr."

"Ohh. Kristin Kreuk and Miranda Kerr, eh?" Katniss is snaking her head around, taunting Peeta as she looms closer to him and raises her eyebrows. "If you like them, why don't you marry them?"

"That would be awesome. Do you think they'd leave their husbands for me?" Peeta is smirking like a pervert and winks at Katniss.

"Jerk!"

Peeta's shoulders heave uncontrollably as he lets out humiliating sounds, breaking into a series of weird chuckles. He calms down and tries to take her by the forearm as Katniss shoots him a gallery of disgusted faces.

"Nah. They're gorgeous, but so what. I only care about one woman in this world," he pulls her gray eyes in for a dance with his. "The only one that matters, and she's standing right in front of me, and she's carrying my child." With a hand still on her forearm, he draws her closer and places her hands on top of his shoulders. He then sneaks his hands back down to her waist and begins to sway her slightly.

Katniss has a half-mortified look on her face as Peeta clears his throat before he belts out and attempts to imitate Joe Cocker's voice.

"You are so beautiful….To me!"

Katniss beams as she shoves her face and tries to bury it into Peeta's shoulder to hide her giddiness and embarrassment.

"You are so beautiful…To me! Can't you see…?"

She begins to giggle, appreciating Peeta's effort as he sings to her in public with no holds barred and too much enthusiasm, complete with tiny beads of sweat congregating on his forehead as the result of his utter concentration. She lifts her head to glance at people and notes that some are watching and smiling at them and some are oblivious and carrying on about their business.

The two are overly caught up in their own bottled-in world that they don't notice the line has been moving forward, and there is now a wide gap in between them and the customer ahead of them.

"You're everything I hope for. You're everything I need…."

The man standing in the lineup behind their little dance is not happy and has lodged his first protest.

"Will you move up? Let's get this line going!" the man mumbles unapologetically. "Go rent a dance floor!"

Peeta winces for a split second as his hand tenses and feels the need to extend his arm and punch the guy in the kisser, but he reminds himself to put a tight leash around his short-fused temper. If he could flip a middle finger at the rude man behind them, he gladly would, but he refuses to take his focus away from Katniss.

He makes her pull away from him so they can look into each other's eyes, and leans down on her until their foreheads touch.

"You are so beautiful. To me."

* * *

The Mellark house is massive.

The exterior wall is rich beige with trimmings in dark shade of brown, a train of well-manicured hedges line up the perimeter of the house. The entryway is bordered by metallic gate, arched driveway that loops and leads to the three-car garage on the extreme left. Four tall and tinted windows accompany the intricately detailed mahogany, Montreal-styled front door in the middle.

The inside boasts a high ceiling reaching nine feet, and an obnoxious, sweeping crystal chandelier hanging down before the two spiral sets of stairs to the second floor. The living room looks like something from a home design magazine, elegant set of furniture in classic Colonial style, highlighted by exotic plants like Japanese maple bonsai, giant bamboos and money trees.

"My son!" Mr. Mellark exclaims as he yanks Peeta close and smothers him in a hug, laughing full-heartedly and giving his back a loud slap. Peeta lets out a helpless choke first before he laughs along with him, his eyes widening as his father pinches his chin and shakes his head around. "How are you boy?"

"I am fantastic, dad, yourself?" Peeta asks with a straight face, his head being tilted backwards now.

"I'm great! Businesses are booming! But mind you, it comes with a price," he pauses and angles his head low. "See, I'm sporting a handsome set of gray hair now and apparently your mother thinks it makes me look more intelligent and defined." Mr. Mellark waggles his eyebrows and suddenly lets go of him and his chin, switching his attention to Katniss who is having a hard time suppressing a smile.

"Lovely Katniss," Mr. Mellark's face softens at the sight of her as she observes the ground underneath his shoes. "It's so nice to see you again!"

"Hi Wynn!" she says as he steps over and also engulfs her in an embrace. She moves her head beyond his arm to peek at Peeta standing behind and gives him a fully-toothed grin.

Mr. Mellark gestures for them to come in and starts hollering across the living room, calling out Peeta's older brother. Maximilian is still based in Kentucky, living with his newly pregnant wife in downtown Louisville. Their oldest brother Jono is away on a business trip in Toronto, meeting with shareholders and CEOs of the fund company he works for.

Within seconds Max is barreling down the hallway, heavy thread against the hardwood floor. The middle child, two years older than Peeta, emerges from behind a wall, his piercing blue eyes excited and his blond hair just about as long and as in much natural disarray as Peeta's. Katniss never fails to be struck by the eerie resemblances between the two brothers, and feels a tinge of unease when his eyes land on hers.

Max and Peeta huddle together on the side and launch into a casual, comfortable conversation as if Peeta has never left the state, neglecting his bag and the artwork on the floor by the door. Katniss walks over and picks up the wrapped canvass, and as she looks back to tell Peeta that he shouldn't leave it leaning over his bag like that, she catches Wynn observing her.

When she notices that Mrs. Mellark hasn't even appeared to greet them yet despite all the clamoring they have generated by the front door, she starts to feel nervous. She has a bad feeling she won't get a warm reception from her at all. She is clueless as to what Peeta's family knows with regards to what transpired between them over the three years. She also doesn't know if he has told them that she has a daughter with someone else.

She handles the canvass with care and approaches Wynn.

"Peeta painted something for Esther. I haven't seen it myself," she shyly offers it to Wynn and he takes it gingerly.

"I've always admired Peeta's artistic capabilities. I have a room dedicated to all the stuff he has ever given us over the years," he pauses as he stares down at the plain wrapping paper. "He told me he opened his own studio in Corpus Christi," he says. His tone is very casual, as if it was something ordinary or run of the mill according to his family's standard.

"Yes," Katniss nods. "Texas has pretty much embraced his works. He's networking more now, and has acquired some clients from California and Florida."

Mr. Mellark responds with a smile. "I'm proud of him. That is what he's always wanted to do. The boy did it!"

Above the buzzing noise from Peeta and Max' tug of war of words, Mrs. Mellark finally walks in from the kitchen and raises an eyebrow at Katniss before her eyes glide slowly towards Peeta. Katniss feels herself shrink as Peeta bolts to greet her, his face lightening up at seeing his mother.

Mrs. Mellark looks stern and allows Peeta the rarity of a small smile.

"What happened to your face?" she asks, referring to the light purple bruise under his eye and the small random scratches on his cheek. Peeta makes a load of excuses and dismisses the question as if it wasn't important.

There is a disinterested look on her face when she tells everyone that their lunch will be ready soon, not adding much and begins to turn around to head back into the kitchen. Before she disappears into a hallway, she springs back as if remembering something for the first time, and finally acknowledges the other blaring presence in the room.

"Katniss," she says flatly and dips her head in the slightest.

* * *

They play billiards and sip on orange juice while they waited for their meal, Mr. Mellark all elated and inseparable from his sons. Katniss is reserved and prefers to listen rather than contribute to the conversations, half of the topic she's clueless about because they lean more on private and includes people she is not familiar with.

She hasn't forgotten about Madge. In fact, she has just learned that she is living in the suburbs outside of Louisville with a boyfriend. They have arranged to see each other the next day to meet in their favourite coffee shop, the one they used to hang out in frequently back in college.

They are called into the dining room at about twelve and they are completely settled in by twelve thirty. A housekeeper enters the room with a large pushcart full of food trays, and carefully sets down each dish in the middle of the long table. Katniss and Peeta sit together, Max is across them, and Mr. and Mrs. Mellark sit on the opposite ends along the length of the table.

Katniss almost gags at the over-formality of the setup during a Mellark meal.

The covers of each tray are lifted up and the appetizing smells of the food begin to spread throughout. Mushroom soup and naan bread with hummus are the appetizers. Mediterranean quinoa with tabouli salad and rosemary chicken, caramelized onions & brie are the main entrees. The only beverage on the table is Perrier.

They begin to eat in silence as they start demolishing the food. Katniss gathers the nerve to speak up first and tell Mr. and Mrs. Mellark that the meal is quite amazing. Mr. Mellark takes this chance to talk about his newfound culinary strength while Mrs. Mellark chews her food and merely blinks at Katniss.

Peeta notices the anxiety Katniss must be feeling as she tries to gauge and understand his mother's cold behaviour ever since they arrived. He plans to break the silence and the ice that surrounds it by announcing the single most important thing to him right now.

"Everyone. I have news," he pauses and darts a sideway glance at Katniss. Max is staring at him, comically holding his breath. "Katniss and I are expecting."

Mr. Mellark and Max' jaws drop in unison as their eyes widen at Peeta, and then at Katniss who looks dumbfounded herself, sitting frozen on his side with a smile cemented on her lips. Peeta leans back, slacked on his chair and puts an arm around Katniss, looking accomplished and overjoyed. As Katniss turns to look at him while she places a hand on his leg, he zooms in to her lips and peppers her with light kisses.

"Another grandchild Esther! This is an incredible blessing! God is so good to us," Mr. Mellark praises the Lord. He mentally counts his oldest son Jono's two sons with his wife, Max and his wife's baby girl due in about four months, and now Peeta and Katniss' baby.

Mrs. Mellark stares at Katniss as her breaths deepen. Katniss catches the incoming glare from his mother and starts to fidget.

"So when's the wedding, Peet?" Max asks. Peeta braces himself. He knew this sort of question would come reeling right in and he would have to answer eventually. Admittedly, he is still very conscious and feels sensitive from the fact that his engagement with Glimmer failed; therefore a small part of him is hesitant when it comes to weddings or marriages. He keeps in mind that Katniss is a totally different person attached to a different situation, and it's not fair to compare and displace the old feelings from Glimmer and transfer it on to what he presently has with Katniss relationship-wise.

Whichever misfortune that happened with Glimmer should not affect nor worsen his decision-making when it comes to Katniss.

Peeta subconsciously reaches for Katniss' hair and plays with it.

"A wedding will come when it comes. I'm not sure we're into grand celebrations, but I do know I want to be with her, and only her. And you know, hopefully she wants to be with me too," he jokes as he looks at her tenderly. "We don't want to rush and flag a wedding date just because everybody else around us is getting married."

Katniss gives his leg a little squeeze and decides to add her two cents. "We have our own pace in our relationship, so if we need to take time to work on things, then so be it," her eyes flit between Mr. Mellark and Max, and then finally at Mrs. Mellark, avoiding to elaborate on the 'things' she is referring to. "We know our relationship better than everybody else."

"I definitely agree," Mr. Mellark supports their decision and commends their confidence about it. "I'm glad you both are strong-willed and won't let society shape your thoughts and tell you what's right for you."

Mrs. Mellark suddenly clears her throat, a noise she actually makes for the first time since they sat down on the table.

"But Peeta, your situation is different. There is a baby involved. So are you planning for your child to be born out of wedlock?" she asks the food trays in front of her. Everybody's heads swing towards her as the room falls hushed. Peeta moves away from Katniss and leans forward on the edge of the table.

"Mom, we're not _planning_ on _not_ getting married. We're just not getting married _right now_…"

"What's stopping you?" Mrs. Mellark says stubbornly, proving to everyone on the table that she has indeed blocked out their previous conversation. "You have to be married before the baby, and even before living with each other."

"Says who?" Peeta is growing weary of his mother as his tone and mood drops.

"Says the church! You don't want to be frowned upon, do you? Our family carries an excellent reputation…"

"Esther," Mr. Mellark begins to warn her. Peeta shits on table etiquette that their mother has insisted on reinforcing since they were kids and places both his arms on the table, further burying his head in it.

Katniss has detached herself from him and is now chasing a piece of cheese on her plate with a fork. She wonders if her face is an ever-changing shade of red, and if she could excuse herself to leave the dining room. Mrs. Mellark switches her aim on to Katniss.

"I still have no idea what happened with Glimmer. I thought she was such a nice girl, very beautiful. You were a few months away from getting married…"

Katniss is now hiding her face under a curtain of flowing hair. She has broken into cold sweat as a part of her wants to stand up and slap Mrs. Mellark across the face and the other part wants to run away.

If there is any last thread of patience and tolerance in Peeta, he is using it quite well. He has always had a reserve specifically when it comes to his mother. He glares at her as his nostrils slightly flare in repressed anger.

Mr. Mellark is fuming but is maintaining his temper. "Esther, I _told_ you what happened with that one," he says in a low growl, feeling embarrassed on behalf of Peeta. Mrs. Mellark is not finished.

"Look at your brothers; a banker, a Chief Compliance Officer. All settled down with their families. And they don't have to kiss anyone's ass, people kiss theirs. That's success."

"Mom, you have a very skewed perception of success," Max tries to neutralize their mother's ignorance.

"You'd be disappointed to know that bankers are the downfall of the economy, mother," Peeta scowls at her from across the table. He is not aware of the coiling and the uncoiling of his fingers.

"You could've been something bigger Peeta. You've always been the smartest one," she pauses and cracks her knuckles. "I found the letter of acceptance to University of Kentucky you hid years ago. Wasn't that your dream university?" She casually picks up her fork and scoops up a bite of chicken. "But you chased a girl instead."

Katniss lets out a soundless gasp as she closes her eyes, wanting to turn around and ask Peeta if it was true but she couldn't move.

"Esther, that is enough!" Mr. Mellark slaps the table with one heavy hand and is on the verge of standing up and pulling her out of the dining room to have a talk. "You don't talk to your son like that, I disallow this to continue any further!"

Peeta has never felt this low and suddenly pushes the chair back, not minding if he has scratched his mom's precious hardwood floor. He stands up swiftly, and the flood of hateful words that are overflowing in his mind he keeps barricaded to himself. He turns around and dashes out of the dining room, brushing past the housekeeper who looks bewildered by Mrs. Mellark's verbal tirade.

"Peeta!," Katniss calls after him, her legs already moving to stand up before her command. "Damn it!," she slams her knuckles onto the table as she whips around to face Mrs. Mellark on the opposite end. "With all due respect, Esther, the only ass you'll be kissing is _mine_ when you finally get it right in that narrow brain of yours that he is successful and genuinely happy with what he does! And that's what's important!"

She lets her eyes finish flinching at her before she looks over at Max and Mr. Mellark, nodding at them respectfully before she scampers backwards and follows Peeta out.

* * *

Katniss wobbles on the sidewalk in a seemingly drunken haze, heavy with emotions and sympathy she feels for Peeta after being talked down by his own mother. She sees him in a far off distance walking away, blond hair against all the green from the swaying trees and bushes on people's front lawns.

"Peeta! Wait up!" she yells across the space but doubts he's able to hear her at all. "Peeta!"

As he turns in a corner, a light bulb flicks in her head and she knows where he's headed to.

The playground they used to spend time in when they were in high school is still there, now boasting a bigger slide and more swings. The benches scattered around are repainted with yellow, and she could tell there are new patches of grass that were laid out to grow over the bald spots on the ground. Her heart hitches in her throat as she is taken down by strong, old memories of her and Peeta on this exact same playground, pulling her back to when times were still easy and innocent.

She runs across the grass and stops at about six feet from him, taken aback by how broken and empty he looks as he quickly turns around to glance at her. A tear rolls down his eye as he weeps silently, and she feels oddly connected to him that the pain he feels inside is crushing her as well. He sniffs before be grabs the handle of a swing and plops himself on the seat.

She positions herself by the swing beside his. "Kicking kids out of the playground again?"

Peeta mumbles and shrugs at himself. "Old habits die hard." He wipes his sleeve on his chin.

She takes her time to sit on the swing and starts to propel herself. "Honey, would you forgive me if I called your mother a terrible bitch?" She scoffs and shakes her head. "The nerves of that woman."

"She is terrible, isn't she," he asks, but instead of anger, there is sadness in his voice. "I don't know, maybe she's right."

"Right about what?" she asks with a hint of agitation.

He chuckles first before he admits into self-destruction. "That I'm a fuck-up."

"Peeta…"

"What was I thinking Katniss? I hurt you, I left you, and then I shoved myself right back into your life and on top of that, I lied to you to cover how shit my life and myself have become."

"…don't….don't do this," Katniss pleads.

"You don't deserve any of my crap. How could I have been so selfish? So selfish that I wanted you all to myself…" Peeta stumbles over the anguish of his words. "I just wanted to love you, but I know that's not good enough. You deserve way more than this."

"Peeta. Listen to me," she reaches an arm over to hold the swing to keep him still. "After all this time, after all we've been through, you should know by now how I feel for you. You should know, Peeta."

Peeta hangs his head low and digs the tip of his shoes into the sand. "That's what hurts me. You've put up with everything and you're still willing to be with me."

Katniss nudges her head closer to Peeta's, making him look at her in the eye. "I love you for every flaw and dark and mistake that you are. Every bruise on your skin, every twisted corners of your mind. I have loved you at your best, and I will still love you when the weight of the world brings you down to your knees. You're a disaster ready to be activated, you're fucked up beyond reason, but I love you. Underneath all that layer, I know that you're a good man with a good heart, and I'm not ready to give up on that." There is a defiant look on her as she watches Peeta's face cross over a variety of emotions.

Peeta sniffs as he basks in the comfort and simple happiness that comes along from being with Katniss, and feeling his love returned back to him.

"Thank you for loving me especially when I couldn't even love myself," he responds with a soft grin. He hovers over her cheek before he proceeds to crush his lips against hers, pulling her in softly as his tongue dives and clashes with the roof of her mouth.

They kiss under the light swaying of the swing, hand in hand, mouth to mouth, hearts beating in synchrony. Perhaps his mother is right; that's he is a very bright, intelligent man with underused mathematical skills. But there are things he's afraid he'll never comprehend, like how someone full of passion and spirit can begin to love a misunderstood wreck like him.

* * *

_When you're on the outside baby and you can`t get in _  
_I will show you you're so much better than you know _  
_When you're lost, and you're alone, and you cant get back again _  
_I will find you darling, and I will bring you home_

_-Sade_

* * *

**A/N: Well that went on longer than I had originally estimated.**


	16. Chapter 16: Arylide Yellow

Peeta twitches a muscle, heavily engulfed by his phone playing Temple Run with parted lips and wide eyes. He tunes out the noise from the crowd around him in Louisville International Airport, sitting in the middle of a row of benches with bags piled up around his feet. They're waiting for their flight back to Corpus Christi, boarding in half an hour.

"Booyah!" he exclaims as he jolts out of his seat, elated from passing through a difficult stage in the game. He falls silent again and his air circulation almost stops as he suddenly feels a set of hands come up from his side vision and covers both his eyes, much to his chagrin.

"...But...I was about to beat my own record..." he whines weakly, bordering on childish.

"Guess who!," a high-pitched voice sing-songs straight into his ear.

Peeta pauses and sighs, wrinkling his nose as Katniss presses her hands harder into his face. "Fashion police?" Peeta tries.

"Nope. Guess again," Katniss snickers from behind him, now placing her chin on top of his head.

"Debbie Downer?"

"No. It's me!," Katniss lifts her hands up off his eyes as she pops up from his left, her eyes twinkling and smile amped up on voltage. She glides around the row of benches and approaches him, claiming an empty seat beside him. Peeta rolls his eyes her way and then back to his phone.

"Oh it's you," Peeta returns the smile and exudes a kind of warmth and peace that he has always been devoid of before. He watches Katniss open her bag as she holds his gaze, digging her hand in and pulls out a small bag of salt and vinegar chips. Peeta is looking at her in utter amazement as his mouth begins to water.

"You are eating my favourite chips," he states the obvious, ready to pounce on her.

"I figured I can eat bad food once in a while," she throws one into her mouth and tilts her head as she glances at him, the chip crunching loudly that it makes Peeta dart his tongue out to lick his bottom lip.

"Are you sharing with the class?" he asks as he puts away his phone, disappearing into his pocket.

"Well," Katniss' eyes flit upwards as her face sours at the taste of vinegar. "I'm going to have to charge one kiss per chip. You know, inflation and stuff."

"I happen to have an ample supply of those which can meet your demands!" he says happily.

He doesn't think twice and dives into Katniss' lips, landing her a quick peck. As he pulls away to wait for his reward, Katniss gives him a lopsided grin and picks a single chip out and hand-feeds it to him. He doesn't tear his eyes off of her as he munches in pathetic excitement. It's been too long since he last luxuriated in junk food.

"Would you like another one?" she asks as he gulps it down. She grabs a bigger chip out of the bag and waves it at him. Peeta flashes her a wide smirk first before he swoops in again and chastely kisses her.

"You can't eat the rest of that Katniss. Might be bad for the baby," he tries his best to look serious before Katniss shoves another piece into his mouth.

She blinks at him in amusement. "Whatever! You just want these chips to yourself," she blurts out.

"Whatever. You just want kisses," Peeta winces at her as he lunges forward and catches her off-guard, grabbing her cheeks with both hands as he yanks her head to collide with his. He gives her an extremely sloppy albeit passionate kiss, running his tongue across her bottom lip and then charges in tip first into her ajar mouth. Katniss yelps helplessly, face screwing in repulsion as she pushes him away. She doesn't even feel the bag of chips slide out of her grasp as Peeta chuckles and almost buries his head in it.

"Ugh! Yuck. You smell like vinegar."

"No, really Katniss, I smell like peppermint."

"That's ok. I still like you, I think," Katniss leans back on her chair and rests her leg on one of the bags on the floor.

"Well that works. I like you too," Peeta declares and cocks an eyebrow at her.

He pretty much inhales what is left in the bag and grunts as he stretches to get up off the chair. He spots a garbage bin and starts to head for it, dodging people making their way around the airport. A news report on the television suspended from the ceiling magnetizes him, possibly sucking all the air out of his lungs. Katniss fidgets on the bench by the windows and wonders what has rendered him speechless that he's almost floating awestruck towards the TV.

The words Corpus Christi International Airport is slapped across the bottom of the screen, highlighted by "Breaking News" in red font along the top.

Peeta feels Katniss sidle up next to him as she further studies his blank expression.

"I swear if this is only about Kim Kardashian it should not be news..." She lifts her head up to the screen to follow Peeta's gaze and feels her breath get stuck in the middle of her throat.

A news anchor is reporting a current incident in Corpus Christi, showing an interchanging mix of footages between the airport, a court room, and the infamous pier off of Rincon Road. Peeta keeps composed when a picture of an old friend flashes on the screen above them while the news anchor continues to report on the progress of the situation.

"...Cato Thorpe...a name that is no stranger with the police in the states of Texas and Kentucky. He is linked to the murder of Finnick Odair found dead floating in the waters of Nueces Bay by a local fisherman. The only evidence left behind in the crime scene was a weapon, specifically a pistol cross bow laid in the parking lot near the lakeshore. Weapons Statistics Analysis confirms that the cross bow is registered to Cato Thorpe. Thorpe was held for questioning as soon as he landed in Corpus Christi International Airport returning from Utah. The FBI reports that Thorpe was not in the state when the murder occurred, but there is still speculation as to him being the key figure in Odair's death."

* * *

Peeta ducks in behind his collar as he maneuvers and tries to blend into the crowd on the sidewalks of downtown Corpus Christi. He was in a meeting with Cinna in a small coffee shop, asking him a huge favour of managing his gallery indefinitely. Peeta does not elaborate on where he will be in the future or when he is leaving the state, but he does offer Cinna a generous pay. He figures that he feels the closest to Cinna out of all of his friends, and that he can trust him with his business.

As he approaches closer to his condo building, he screeches to a halt by the first sign of flashing lights from a couple of ambulances and three police cars strewn across the main entrance. His heart races as he charges into the growing crowd in front of the building, kept away by the yellow caution tape at a good distance from the dead body draped across the ground. There is blood streaming from gunshot wounds on the blond man's unrecognizable face, creating a pool underneath which has started to trail across the asphalt.

Peeta scans the crowd for a familiar face and perks up when he finds a person who lives on the same floor as him.

"Hey Mike. What happened here?" he asks casually.

"So far what we know is that guy lived on the 15th floor, and that he was possibly standing outside his balcony when he was shot in the head and then he took a plunge down," the man winces as the dead body is wrapped and lifted up into the ambulance. An investigator has drawn with a white chalk to trace around where the body was and is now preparing his camera to take pictures of the scene.

Peeta's face screws in realization as it dawns upon him that the room above the balcony where the victim fell off from is his penthouse condo. A team of FBI agents are milling around in the victim's balcony, one of them stepping to the edge and putting a hand on the railing to study the neighbouring buildings.

He keeps his thoughts and the beating in his chest corralled in as he becomes overly conscious of his surroundings. The victim's condo skims way too close to his place, and he reaches a wild new conclusion that the target might have been him instead of this possibly innocent man. But that's just a theory, and he steps back in full awareness as he pulls out of the crowd. He plans to head over to the back of the building to access the underground parking lot and fishes the car keys out of his pocket. A gun-related crime scene like this is the last place he'd want to be spotted in, especially now that he is set loose from Cato's immunity.

He spots a police man on one end of the street interviewing a condo resident and he veers right off, forcing him to take another route just to reach the back. Instead, he freezes at the sight of a familiar vehicle parked on the side of the street perpendicular to the main street. He sneaks sideway glances before he inches forward, his eyes alert and zeroing in through the tinted windows. His blood suddenly begins to boil as he strides his way to the armoured van usually driven by his former co-worker.

In no time, the phone is plastered to his ear, calling Gale to demand an explanation. The line does not even ring; instead he hears an automated message.

"_The number you have reached is not in service. Please check_..." He exhales as he hangs up the phone.

"Gale?" he asks quietly as he presses his side into the vehicle.

The lack of response prompts him to reach for the door handle and he slides it open, appalled that the van was not locked in the first place. He steps in and shuts the door in haste, checking the driver and passenger seats in the front and sees that the area is empty. As his gaze drops to the computer screens installed in the van, a switch flicks on inside him and within seconds he is bursting with rage.

The three screens in front of him all show a number of old footages and screenshots ever recorded of Peeta setting up a kill, in the middle of the kill, and then leaving various crime scenes. Two of the computer screens simultaneously show multiple videos of him while one is a whole video of a singular incident. It is then followed by another video of a complete operation but flagged under a different date and a different year.

He shakes his head, feeling his nails dig in to his palm as he curls his fingers in anger, darting a look out the window and sees the policeman now standing alone but looking far into his direction.

He continues rummaging in the van, focused on the other side from the computers and sees two old pistols he used for assignments, both spread out over the seat in a careless fashion. He huffs in anxiety as he scampers to grab the guns and then rushes to conceal them underneath his pant legs. He returns his attention to the busy computer screens and turns them off, cursing as he tries to remember how Gale would operate the machines. He looks for a certain button and presses it in, and out pops a small disk that he once saw Gale insert into one of the drives. His hand quavers as he looks for more buttons that can potentially give him more disks of recordings, and out pops a second, and notably bigger one.

Sweat trickles down his face as he lifts his head to look through the window again and counts two policemen and an FBI agent scrutinize the black van he's currently hiding in. They nod amongst themselves in agreement before they start marching down the sidewalk. Peeta gasps silently as he fumbles backwards, and wishes Gale was there so he could sacrifice him to the cops.

He looks over at the road on the other side and notices that it's suddenly full of activity due to line-ups of vehicles being re-rerouted there from the main street.

By the time the group of investigators reach the van, their weapons are drawn out. The FBI agent reaches for the door handle as the two policemen stand on guard behind him, positioning their guns by pointing it at the ground. The agent almost detaches the door as he roughly slides it open, his face growing in slight confusion as he tries to figure out the suspicious set-up of computers and cameras presented to them inside the van.

* * *

A long-legged redhead steps out of Gale's Porsche and saunters around to reach him on the driver's seat. He rolls down the window as she beams at him and leans down to kiss him goodbye, almost shoving her half-exposed breasts into his face. Gale smirks and waves his hand, enjoying the view of her ass as she walks down the pathway to her house.

A familiar white Lexus rolls in from behind him and overtakes his parked car, turning right into the girl's driveway but not completely, and shuts off his engine. Peeta has successfully positioned his car to block Gale's from going anywhere, half the body of the car mounted on the driveway and the rest of it on the street. He hops out, eyes set gravely on Gale.

Gale watches him as he swings the door open and grabs him by the collar, pulling him out of the car aggressively. Gale gives a little fight and attempts to push him away.

"Bro! What's your problem man?"

"My problem? My problem is!...," he pauses as he tightens his grip around Gale's collar and Gale has his hands wrapped around Peeta's bandaged wrists. "...you're a rat! You're a rat, Gale, what do you think you're doing, trying to sell me out to the FBI?!" he spits angrily at him.

"What? What are you talking about!" Gale gnarls as he gets pressed against his car.

"Your precious little van is ready for the picking, parked right outside my condo a few yards away from a crime scene in which your boss has probably perpetrated!" Peeta is livid and loses all his cool. "Wanted to show the Feds the many fanvids you created of me?"

"It wasn't me, get your facts straight first and get your hands off me," he answers calmly. "I wouldn't do that to you Peet. I ain't no snitch!" Gale clenches his jaws and challenges any other accusations Peeta may be ready to loosely throw.

Something in the way Gale stares him down makes him retreat and let go of his collar. Peeta grunts as he shoves Gale back, sending him staggering along the side of his Boxster. Gale is swift to stand back on steady feet and keeps his eyes glued to Peeta.

"I knew, as soon as I free myself from Cato, I knew I'd be a lone and easy target on display," Peeta tries to suppress the tone of his voice, gesturing widely at the ground with his hand. "I'm sick of all this shit!"

"You're gonna have to get out of here Peeta. Keep out of Cato's way. He is very angry."

"Oh I have other plans for Cato."

Gale gives him a look of disapproval. "Look, don't you go around opening a bigger can of worms. You have plenty of eyes on you Peeta. You need to watch your back, I can't do that for you anymore. And remember that Cato is under Cornelius Snow's immunity. That means you'll get royally fucked over once you touch him."

"Snow does not know me. He knows jack."

"Don't be a fool!"

"Gale, there's no way I'm going to spend the rest of my waking hours running away and hiding from the mob. It has already stolen years of my life."

"Then good luck, sweet pea. You're going to need an army."

Peeta looks up to the sky and cracks his neck, giving a satisfied sigh as his bones make noise. A small smile appears on his lips as he sweeps his eyes across the grass on the sidewalk and pauses before he looks back at Gale who has a quizzical look on his face.

"I'm going to need some brick and mortar," he says, his hand plunging into his pocket to run a thumb against the metal of his pistol. "Katniss is pregnant."

* * *

Hiding behind shadows.

It's what Katniss warned him of before when she first learned of his involvement in criminal agendas. And it's exactly what she finds themselves doing now, carefully stepping out of the house during the day and camouflaging into crowds during rush hours, constantly alert and keeping an extra eye in the back of their heads.

They have been spending the whole day running around the city cutting ties and closing accounts, and with a slightly relieved heart Katniss has handed in her signed resignation paper to her manager. Peeta has made long distance calls to California, inquiring about apartment buildings under such short notice.

Katniss trudges the lively streets of the financial district, her hands coming up to cross in front of her chest as a subconscious effort to guard her baby. She tries to regulate her breathing, otherwise she would be jumping at the first loud sound coming at her. She is overly intense and nervous that she looks suspicious to strangers passing her by on the street. The glass wall of a diner comes up on her left and she pours her attention to it, slowing down her pace as she tries to eye down a figure walking behind her.

Peeta insists that he should keep a healthy distance away from her when they decide to walk together, either in front of her or behind her, reducing the chance of Katniss being harmed in an incident if anyone is aiming to kill him at any moment. He treads about seven feet away from her, watching her head turn slightly to look at the glass wall to catch his reflection.

She just wants to get into her car. Her and Peeta, safe and mobile in a car.

It sits in the middle of a parking lot inside a plaza. She cringes at how far they still have to walk, but she finds comfort in the number of people that is providing a protective wall around her. Her legs begin to move faster without her permission, and as soon as she realizes she has widened the gap Peeta has been trying to maintain between them, she gasps inwardly and shoots another glance at his reflection off a glass wall on the left.

She sees him nod at her, his hands folding in to his pockets and keeps his head low.

She hugs herself tighter as she shuts her eyes for a quick moment, displeased at the situation they're in and trying to get out of. One of her hands frees up to reach down and lightly touch her stomach, followed by a light, empowering feeling that takes her over. It temporarily diminishes reality and the worries of her mind.

The plaza looms ahead of them, and the clutter of cars in the parking lot situated in the middle.

The anticipation pushes her to search for another glass wall so she could confirm Peeta's presence behind her. A Starbucks comes up and she readies herself to spot his reflection, cursing out loud as her shoulder collides into another shoulder of a person walking opposite of her. She winces as she rubs her arm, and as she finally angles her head aside to check on Peeta again, a loud, explosive sound increases her heart rate triple the beat.

She gapes in horror as she watches Peeta off the glass wall jerk his head back, followed by the rest of his body under sudden brute force. He topples sideways and slams into the wall before slinks to the ground, the stranger next to him mirroring the exact same movements. From the shooter's point of view, the two disappear behind cars parked parallel to the street.

Katniss, along with everybody else startled and panicking on that section of the sidewalk, all fold their legs in and stay close to the ground as a knee-jerk reaction to the sound of a gunshot. She hides behind one of the red mailboxes along with an old woman deliriously talking to her in a foreign language. The man who fell over with Peeta is now slowly emerging, confused and anxious while Peeta is still laying on his back, and that's when Katniss covers her mouth before she lets out a blood-curdling scream.

"Peeta! NO!" Katniss is propelled to make a dash for him across from the mailbox to the front of the Starbucks where he is beginning to fidget and choke in his own spit. Instead, she feels the fingers of the old woman wrap around her arm and refuses to let her go beyond the barrier of the mailbox, speaking louder to her in her language. "He needs help!" Katniss swings her head around and screams at the woman.

Peeta is slowly coming back to his senses as he sits upright, unsure of himself, his left hand flying up to hold the side of his spinning head. It seems like he realizes Katniss' presence for the first time, stressed out and hunched over behind the mailbox some feet away from him but he can't read her lips. He can't hear anything.

The man beside him has fully stood up, cursing at the wind and at whoever tried to shoot at him. As soon as his head materializes from behind the parked cars, another shot is fired and he dwindles lifeless to the ground. At this point, Peeta could finally make out all the commotion around him, the sounds of horrified gasps and screams of people who are frantically running around and away from the deceased man beside him.

He struggles to stand up from underneath the flurry of a terrified crowd and he growls as he keeps getting kicked in the back. He finally finds his feet and begins to stalk across to reach Katniss who is reduced to a ball curled in on the ground, hugging her knees together, cautious not to stand up straight and keeps his head low behind the cars. He instructs Katniss to do the same as he pulls her up and they mould once again into the madness of the sidewalk stampede.

"Run!," he shouts at the person in front of him but it was intended for Katniss who is wobbling beside him. He finds himself limping as he starts to feel a deeper kind of pain throbbing on his right arm, the arm he uses to shoot. Katniss holds Peeta's left hand as she tries to keep her eyes straight at the street corner ahead. She has never felt this much desire and longing to see her car again.

Katniss yelps as another shot is fired at their general direction, the bullet merely grazing Peeta's hair. The ringing in his ear and the stinging of his arm is bringing him down to his knees, and he stumbles graceless to the ground as he extends his uninjured arm to hold him up. Katniss gasps as she screeches to a halt and almost crawls towards Peeta, noticing his arm is locked on an angle.

"Keep running," Peeta commands her.

"Peeta..." she looks petrified as she studies his right arm after spotting drips of blood trailing behind him. He puts a hand over the excruciating pain emanating from his flesh and hisses as he lifts it up to eye-level and sees it smeared with his own blood. "...Peeta you're hit!," Katniss says with urgency.

"It's alright, it's just my arm, now go!" he says distressed as he forces himself to stand back up and fumble forwards, Katniss draping his good left arm over her shoulder for support. They scurry and progress about ten harrowing steps before Peeta's legs cramp and give in.

"Peeta we're almost there...we're so close to the car..." Katniss tries to encourage him, caressing his back and exerts energy to yank him up.

Peeta's eyes transform into a deeper shade of blue as he drills them into hers. "Honey...I need you to go. I need you to get in your car and drive the hell out of here," he says as they reach the inside of the plaza's parking lot. "Just go!" he shouts at her.

"...Honey?..." she glances up and squints when she spots a black car with tinted windows appear from one end of the parking lot and crawl on neutral towards them, driving in the middle of the rows. She reflexively springs back on full defensive mode, riding on logic if she chooses to flee over fight. The terror on her face speaks to Peeta what she can't say with her tongue.

"I said go!," Peeta barks desperately when he spots the looming car, trying to convince Katniss to let him deal with this new set of danger alone. "Please...keep yourself safe."

She steps further away like a coward as she watches the car stop and its doors slowly open, three generously tattooed men in black ribbed tank top and jeans hopping out as the driver stays inside. Two of them eye Peeta kneeling on the ground and one is contemplating Katniss. In a split second she turns around and bolts away, sniffing while she wrestles with her pocket trying to grab her keys. She pants, tumbling once and scrapes her knee against the ground when she reaches a short distance away from her car.

She lets out a small cry as she swings the door open and throws herself inside the driver's seat, turning on the engine and reversing her car in wild haste.

One of the men drag Peeta up by the shirt and muse over him like he was a rare item, smiling and flashing his row of gold teeth. "Hey mang. It's our gringo loco."

"Santiago, what up. How's the wife, how's the kids?" Peeta asks nonchalant.

"Hijo de puta! Aren't you going to ask about my brother who you got locked up behind bars, or the one that you killed during Reynosa operation," he talks dangerously close to Peeta's firmly shut lips.

"Wow. Reynosa was moons ago, Santi. That and I don't know which brother you're talking about anymore, you got way too many brothers."

The man backs away to allow some space before he pummels Peeta in the stomach, hard. Peeta lurches forward and hangs his head, the other man behind him holding a handful of his shirt to keep him upright as he is forced to face Santiago. The third man moves from the circle they have made around Peeta and has something else in mind.

"I'm gonna go fetch the girly friend," he says sheepishly. "Can't let a witness run around, no?"

Peeta is quick to answer. "No! You want me, you got me. You don't need her," he insists.

"Yeah we got you alright," Santiago says confidently as he swings an arm and lets his hand make an impact against Peeta's jaw. He spits out blood in return and continues to scowl at Santiago.

Katniss' hands shake on the steering wheel as she turns on a corner that exits out of the plaza, brewing a plan of going back and running over the gangsters with her car. She scratches the idea after realizing that they may be loaded with weapons while she is empty handed, also cutting too close to the decision of calling the police. She drives past a row of cars and whips her head up, glancing at the rearview mirror. Whether she likes it or not, she is granted a glimpse of the group of men huddled over Peeta on the opposite end of the parking lot.

She flinches at the unfolding scene outside that the rearview mirror is able to emulate back to her, sobbing when she distinguishes Peeta fling backwards and drop helplessly in the middle of the circle. She grabs the rosary that he had tied around to hang from the mirror earlier and launches a few Hail Marys, tears building a blurry screen over her eyes as her fingers curl in bitterly around the beads.

* * *

_I fear I'm dying from complications_  
_Complications due to things that I've left undone_  
_That all my debts will be left unpaid_  
_Feel like a cripple without a cane_  
_I'm like a jack of all trades_  
_Who's a master of none_

_Then there's my father  
He's always looking on the bright side  
Saying things like "Son, life just ain't that hard"...  
_

_I guess I take after my mother_

_-City and Colour_


	17. Chapter 17: Stark Cordovan

_But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be_  
_I have hours, only lonely_  
_My love is vengeance that's never free_

_No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man_  
_Behind blue eyes_

_-The Who/Limp Bizkit_

* * *

Cato is on a rampage, pedal-happy on the freeway in his Lincoln. He pops in between cars, rudely cutting off the poor drivers that happen to be on the lane he demands to be ripping through. He has one hand suffocating the steering wheel and the other holding up a phone to his ear, enraged and turning red.

"What do you mean 'you got him'? Where the hell is he then?" he yells at the person on the other line.

"I don't know. I shot at him and I lost him, boss."

"Did you kill him? I told you to just spook him," Cato feels like he keeps rehashing the same task over and over too much. He sighs in annoyance. "I told you I wanted him alive. I want Mellark alive and I want the luxury of killing him myself!"

"No worries, I barely scratched him in the arm with a bullet. He was running off of Staples the last time I saw him."

Cato hangs up the phone and throws it into the cup holder on his side, lifting the hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. He glances over at the passenger seat and shakes his head in disappointment.

"Idiots. Can't even carry out a simple assignment!," Cato says and takes the next exit he sees. "Unlike you, my man, you're brilliant and you have finesse. You're the only decent employee I have."

Gale remains silent and swallows an invisible lump down this throat, looking out the window.

"So where did you say you think Peeta was?"

* * *

Minutes later Cato is tearing down the parking lot of Six Points plaza, missing Katniss driving out of it by seconds, and spots Santiago's back and his bald head from a sharp corner. He slams on the brake and parks his car within an inch from Santiago's bumper and almost flies as he steps out, his trench coat flowing behind him, followed shortly by Gale.

Peeta doesn't give Cato a hint of reaction on his face, and instead, he stares him dead in the eyes. But as soon as he sees Gale appear from behind Cato, he can't help but feel betrayed. Gale is darting looks at anywhere but Peeta.

"Boys, boys, let's calm down and enjoy this perfect weather. And look at all those matching wifebeaters!" Cato exclaims while gesturing at the men surrounding him, flashing everybody a smile. "Looks like you're all about to break into a dance sequence or something..."

A man behind Santiago winces at Cato and lazily flexes his muscles as a means of intimidation.

"He's ours, Cato. You ain't got no business around here."

"Oh. One technicality..." he points his index finger at Santiago. "Just like you and the rest of Aventura here..." he nods at the snarling men one by one. "...this boy is mine, Santi." Cato's presence demands attention as he takes a wide step closer to Peeta, his eyes hollow and need for revenge inflated.

Peeta languidly runs his tongue along his upper teeth and with a flat tone says, "Fuck you Cato. You haven't taken me out to dinner in years. We're never ever getting back together. So you go talk to your friends-"

"Just let me have this one, bro. Just let me whoop his ass like he deserves!" Santiago begs for permission.

Peeta takes this time to snort at how pathetic the whole situation is to him and continues to put pressure over the gunshot wound on his right forearm, the sleeve of his jean jacket soaked in blood. "Santi, let me save you all the trouble. He's going to have you dead in a couple of months," he says as a matter of fact.

One of Cato's eyes flinch while he summons all self-control to prevent from jumping at Peeta and killing him on the spot. He grimly acknowledges a stranger passing by, who is gawking cautiously at their formed circle in the middle of the parking lot.

"What's he talking about, bro?" Santiago scoffs and asks Cato.

"Look, there will be no 'whooping' of asses or mysterious sudden deaths, bro. I only meant to drop by and pick up my favourite hitman here and we'll be off," Cato ensures him and signals Gale to gather Peeta. He also reminds him to check for any concealed weapon and confiscate it. Gale is silent and diligent, moving around Peeta and fluidly pulls out a pistol from his front pocket. He continues to deflect Peeta's eyes twitching at him.

"Liar! I'm not your favourite..." Peeta protests and realizes he's being pushed by Gale towards the parked Lincoln when he feels his hand on his back. Santiago and his men begin to back off and file away into their car, not saying much but finally conform to the rule. Cato hovers over behind as Peeta thrashes around and gets shoved into the backseat by Gale. Cato keeps the car door open to have a word with Peeta.

"Look at you. Attracting all types of vultures," Cato shakes his head in disappointment.

"I ain't dead yet," Peeta is defiant as he tries to ignore the mind-numbing ache on his shooting arm.

"You know what Peeta, you got balls," Cato quips while he stands outside the car and peeks inside to look at him. "I've always admired that about you."

"You can also admire my fist once I'm able to introduce it to your face."

Cato throws his head back and lets out a maniacal laugh as he places his hand on top of the car. He then takes a finger up to his eye to wipe away an imaginary tear from laughing too hard. "See that's the spirit! I would _love_ to see you try."

In a spur of the moment that is mostly fuelled by anger, Peeta stretches his good left arm out of the car and slams his curled fist straight into Cato's nose, catching him unaware. While Cato's head is still in the process of swinging back, Peeta grabs him by the collar and yanks him down, making his forehead crash violently into the roof of the car.

Cato staggers backwards and curses vehemently as his hand raises to cover the bleeding gash on his temple, glancing at Peeta in disbelief. There is an apparent shock on his face from being on the receiving end of Peeta's strength.

The next thing they all know is Cato furiously drawing out the gun from the holster hidden beneath his coat and aims it down at Peeta, his finger itching to pull the trigger. Peeta merely gives him a blank look and begins to settle into a more comfortable sitting position in the backseat.

"Cato, you have no idea how many times I've had a gun pointing at my noggin. This almost bores me."

Cato grits his teeth while his eyes flick sideways and notices people beginning to congregate around them from a distance. He can't get over the fact that Peeta made him bleed despite being disabled on one arm. Once Cato spots a person pulling out a cell phone from their bag, he lowers the gun and turns towards the scattered crowd. He insists to look and stay clean.

"Nothing to see here people! Get moving!" he growls at the strangers as he pockets his gun away. "Nosy shits."

Cato finally climbs into the driver's seat and whizzes the Lincoln out of the plaza, taunting people with the maximum speed he's reaching. His phone sitting snug in the cup holder starts to ring.

"Boss. You got the FBI hot on your tail. They have completely taken this case from the cops. It looks like they're jumping in on this to finally flag you down," the raspy voice of his informant who has an underground connection with the police fills in the line.

"Oh yeah? Well maybe I should start bribing the Feds too, see how that fares off."

"The feds are a tougher nut to crack. I'm just saying that right now is not the best time to be toting your gun openly in public like that."

"So what else do the cops have on me? I just paid a whole whack of them a steep incentive…"

"Cato, I said the cops are pushed out of the picture now. Stay away from the pier. Keep away from Mellark and single him out. Allocate all the Odair accusations onto him. Once the blame is placed elsewhere and you're clean, Mellark can die mysteriously, let's say…suicide?"

"I know I know! I have to set him up. But there is not an inkling to sway this investigation toward this bastard. The weapon found was mine, and there were no fingerprints anywhere. Finnick was washed up on the shore and there was nothing on him but fucking arrows," Cato huffs as he continues to drive distracted. He glances at Peeta who is staring back at him through the rearview mirror. "This asshole here, I've been wanting to get rid of him."

"Hey," Peeta pulls back before he kicks the back of Cato's seat. "I'm still here you know!'

Cato hangs up the phone and shoves it into his pocket, heading to the only place where he could dump Peeta in for a moment under Gale's supervision.

* * *

The Lincoln does not pull into the premises of the warehouse. Cato stops the car by the main entryway and leaves Gale and Peeta on the sidewalk who are eyeing each other down. Peeta suddenly coils inward from the unattended wound on his arm, skin a lighter shade of pale, and balance tipping off to one side. Gale's focus is concentrated on the scowl on Cato's face that he doesn't recognize the slight decline of Peeta's health.

"Take him to the field. I have a meeting with my lawyer and I'm half an hour late because of you sons of bitches. I'll be back to finish him off. If I'm caught up somewhere else, ensure he bleeds slowly," Cato looks up at Gale as his phone starts to ring again. He revs the engine and turns to drive onto the main street.

Gale picks out Peeta's gun that he pocketed earlier and points it at him, gesturing to Peeta to start walking towards the inside of the compound. Peeta looks at him with annoyance.

"You guys have to stop using that gun against me," he says, clutching on to his wound and hisses at his blood-covered hand. "It's like forcing my own pet to bite my own ass." A numbing sensation begins to crawl all over his arm until it reaches down to his fingertips. Even though there aren't any rope that binds his wrists together, half his body feels dysfunctional and useless.

"Let's go, pumpkin, move!" Gale trembles as he lifts his hand holding the gun higher. "You're not going anywhere."

"Since when did you become Cato's posterboy?" Peeta attempts to carry a small talk but a wave of nausea side-blinds him. He lurches forward but fights gravity and holds himself up from hitting the pavement.

"I said move! Don't do anything funny or I'll shoot you."

They trudge through the graveyard of old trucks, empty loads abandoned on the ground and stacked high on top of each other. Smaller warehouses and storage sheds line up each side, full of scrap metal and smells of old fuel. The open field is located behind the main warehouse which is Cato's hideout, overrun by tall barley, stinging nettle plants and poison ivy. The pier is on the opposite side of the main warehouse closed off by a long stretch of yellow caution tape, currently lacking from the usual group of investigators.

Instead of heading straight down the pathway to the main warehouse to reach the field behind it, Gale forces him off to turn into a corner that leads to a secluded, decrepit cabin hiding behind a creepy arrangement of trees. Peeta has never been in that area before and he turns to flash Gale a confused look.

Gale is wordless and moves to grab Peeta's good arm and drags him across the grass, ducking underneath low tree branches.

"Really, Gale? You're going to kill me in _there_?" Peeta winces as they progress closer to the cabin. He spots the tail of a parked car in the back.

Gale almost kicks the door open and Peeta is oddly blinded by the light in the makeshift hospital quarter. He wants to cover his eyes but instead gets a blatant reminder that it is partially coated in blood, feeling squeamish as he blinks at it and then at the men gaping at him from the opposite end of the room. He finally crumples to the ground as he takes deeper, more desperate breaths, squinting up as two men appear above him. He can't decipher more than their silhouettes as the fluorescent light continues to flood his vision. Gale's voice trickles in the background, giving orders to the two men.

"Fix his arm," he says coolly, now directing the gun at the mob doctors.

One of the doctors start to observe Peeta who is laying on the floor and the other one crosses his arms at Gale.

"This guy Mellark? Says who?" the doctor asks, pointing somewhere at the floor.

"As per Cato's order. Fix him now!" Gale cocks the gun. He secretly wishes he won't have to actually use it for the fear of embarrassing himself if ever he falls short and misses.

The doctor looks unconvinced but shrivels at the sight of the weapon being aimed at his head.

"...I don't know Gale. Maybe I should call the boss to confirm," he says bravely as he darts a glance at the other doctor behind him who is carefully pulling Peeta upright. He then instructs Peeta to stand up completely so he can sit on the hospital bed a few steps away where a thick, white curtain hangs and divides the room in half.

"No no no..." he waves the gun harder when the doctor attempts to pull out his cell phone. "Fix now, confirm later." The doctor pauses and sighs before he turns around and joins in the analysis and remedy of Peeta's flesh wound.

* * *

It doesn't take long to operate on his wounded arm. But he can't tell whether the mob doctors did a half-assed job or they were professionals and the procedure was too minor for them to get worked up over. Peeta is well-fed with a few painkillers and his forearm is now nicely wrapped in a good stretch of gauze. The long sleeve of his jean jacket conceals the wrapping, but his arm is still locked at an awkward, fixed L shape.

He trails behind Gale and sends a warm smile to the back of his head.

"You know, you could get in trouble with that," he pauses and clears his throat. "But, thanks bro."

"I told you to get out of Texas or better yet, out of the country."

"Trust me I'm working on it but I have bullets coming at me left, right and centre. And especially from the back," Peeta says, sticking out his thumb and points at the general area behind him over his shoulder.

"If you want to kill Cato just like your masterplan, you'll also have to somehow execute Snow. If you pull that off, Peeta, think about it; you'll have senior status and be like the next Vito Corleone," Gale says, relaxed and looking far out into the distance. "You know Cato wants your head on a silver platter."

"Not if I decapitate him first."

"Peeta, go. I'll tell him you got away because of an altercation with his other men who are more reckless and moronic than you," Gale says, deciding he'll keep Peeta's gun in his pocket.

"Good to know we're on the same page." Peeta steps away and gives Gale a sheepish grin, raising his good arm as a sign of surrender. "Can you give me back my gun please before I make a run for it?"

Gale is thinking hard, wincing at him and from underneath the blast of sunshine above them. He sighs and just as he is about to reach into his pocket, they both hear someone hollering from behind, coming up from the alleyway along one of the warehouses. Peeta turns around to glance at Gale, looking confused and wonders if he should just go ahead and jump him.

Gale subconsciously walks forward in front of Peeta and crosses his arms. "That's Brutus. Cato's new gunman," he pauses and makes sure Peeta hears the next thing he says. "He's a crazy motherfucker."

Brutus stalks towards them as if he's limp on one leg, cigarette hanging off his mouth, oiled and muscular underneath his red, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, bald head shiny under sunshine with a lukewarm beer in his hand. Peeta can't help but snort.

"My father always said if I don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. But this guy…" he says and tries not to burst out into laughter, "…looks like the love child of Ace Ventura and The Rock on steroids."

Brutus takes a sharp hit of his cigarette and offers his knuckles to Gale to give him props. He then glances at Peeta whom he towers over by about three inches, standing behind Gale. Peeta merely raises an eyebrow.

"What's up Hawthorne?"

"Brutus, what are you doing here? Cato's not around," Gale answers.

"I know. He sent me here because there may be a possibility of shit breaking out on the fields," Brutus hasn't torn his eyes off Peeta. Peeta's lips stretch from ear to ear to break the ice.

"Hi I'm Peeta."

"Yeah, yeah, Mellark, I've heard a lot about you. You've made quite a name for yourself around here." Brutus blows smoke straight in their direction. "Cato's favourite black sheep."

Peeta glares at him and is struck by the fact that he hasn't had smoke in weeks and that Brutus has the capability of stitching coherent sentences together.

Brutus puts his beer bottle on the ground and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a revolver. Gale curls in backwards with a new conclusion that things might suddenly take for a really bad turn and he won't be able to get Peeta out scot free.

"Walk with me," Brutus says as he points the gun at the both of them.

Peeta doesn't protest and sticks close to Gale, mildly intrigued by Cato's new gunman. They walk through smaller, winding alleyways and skirt around sheds until they reach the open and head towards the patch of underdeveloped field. Peeta begins to kick tall dead grass down with his foot while Gale uses his hands to keep branches off from flinging into his face.

They stop as soon as the litter of bushes and tall weeds disappear, standing in the middle of a circular clearing. Peeta's heartbeat is relatively calm compared to Gale's. And as fleeting and rare as the cool gust of air flowing between them, they exchange quick, worried glances.

"If the boss had to send two of his top men to keep you on a lockdown, Peeta, then you must be serious trouble to the enterprise." Brutus picks the cigarette from his lips and chucks it away. "You like being the hot topic on the round table?"

"Bad reputation doesn't really bother me."

"Brutus, I can keep watch after him. I was supposed to hold him until Cato's back. You can go…kill people or something," Gale attempts damage control before the actual damage.

"I don't go on ops without you Hawthorne, you're my partner, remember?" Brutus clicks the revolver open and glances at the chamber. "More importantly, I'm bored. I want to play something." He moves closer into the circle and shows his weapon, proceeding to spin the chamber. There is something uneasy about him, expressionless and oozing with bad intention.

Peeta's eyes roll discreetly towards Gale who is slightly shaking his head at Brutus, cringing from how much he already despises the new guy. Brutus shuts the chamber of the revolver secure after rotating it furiously and throws it across to Gale. He catches it with nervous hands and leers at Brutus.

"One bullet in the revolver. Three shooters get one turn each," Brutus gives the direction of the game. "Gale, you go first. Try me."

Gale doesn't have further inquiry and lifts the gun at Brutus, sweat starting to sparkle all over his forehead. He aims high in the middle of Brutus' eyes and chuckles.

"I don't know Brutus…" Gale is in doubt but keeps the gun pointed at his head. "This is so stupid!," he yells in frustration.

"Come on, man. It's just a game," Brutus says as if it's not a big deal. He takes a step forward and tilts his head at Gale.

"Cato's not going to be happy once he finds out his employees are slacking around playing Russian Roulette."

"What, you scared Gale? Huh?" Brutus tries to get a rise out of him. Peeta's injured right hand itches, internally scolding Gale for not handing him back his gun before Brutus made a surprise appearance.

Gale squeezes his eyes shut and curses Brutus once more as he finally pulls the trigger, a cross between disappointment and relief visible on his face when he realizes the gun didn't go off. He lowers the weapon and sighs before he tosses the revolver back to Brutus.

Brutus nods at Gale for approval and throws it to Peeta this time. Peeta seizes the gun eagerly with his left hand, almost rabid with excitement. He slightly struggles with the gun trying to position it and raises it at Brutus with enthusiasm.

"Nuh-uh. Not at me, bro," Brutus protests, his hand hovering over another gun that is peeking from his pocket in case he needs to draw prematurely. Peeta acknowledges the extra weapon and thinks that it's more likely to be fully loaded as opposed to the revolver that he's waving which is near empty with only one bullet.

Brutus' eyes are reduced to a slit. "Try your luck with Gale."

Peeta huffs and scowls at him, refusing to switch his aim to Gale at first. After a moment of considering Brutus' concealed weapon ready to shoot at both of them and potentially wipe them out, he finally swings his left arm and stops it at Gale's chest.

Gale's eyes widen as he starts to breathe heavily through his nostrils.

Peeta can't keep his hand still as his index finger remains stubborn and rests lightly on the trigger. He feels his underused left arm waver helplessly in the air while an idea blooms in his mind. He lets seconds expire before he intentionally angles his hand slight to the right and pulls the trigger at Gale.

Another empty shot.

Gale closes his eyes and lets out a breath he's been holding since watching Peeta wrestle with the revolver.

"What the hell was that, Mellark?" Brutus goes from calm to livid in a nanosecond. "You missed on purpose."

"Well what can I do, my left aim sucks. My shooting arm is injured, see?" Peeta retorts, flapping his wounded arm up and down and feigns a look of hurt.

"Give me back the gun Mellark. No dicking around."

Peeta contemplates if he should try another shot at Brutus for good measure before he chucks it back to him.

"Alright, great game boys! Let's break it up. Everyone goes home a loser," Peeta casually exclaims as he glances at Gale then turns on his heels.

"Where do you think you're going? It's my turn to have a shot at you," Brutus reminds Peeta and directs the gun at his back.

Peeta swivels his head around and peers at Brutus over his shoulder. "There's no bullet in there. You were spinning an empty chamber. You just wanted to make me pee my pants, asshole," Peeta says derisively. Brutus' shoulders heave as he lets out a booming laugh.

"No wonder the big boss liked you. You're an obnoxious prick, just like him," Brutus responds, determined to shoot Peeta in the face. Peeta smiles before he looks away and starts to tread slowly towards the warehouse, gauging Gale's state of mind because he's fidgeting beside Brutus like he's up to no good.

"I think you're smart because you're catching on pretty well," Peeta says sarcastically as he kicks small rocks off the ground.

Gale watches Brutus' eye muscles flinch as he zeroes in on Peeta, concentration unbreakable and target steady, synchronizing with Peeta's unpredictable movements.

The compound falls eerily silent as Brutus presses down the trigger.

Before Gale realizes that he has positioned himself to pounce on Brutus from an arm's reach, he is fully clashing into him, upper body against upper body, startling Brutus and recalculating his aim about a foot higher. The loud sound of combustion the gun generates rings upwards as it physically detaches from Brutus' grasp and lands on the ground, followed by a mad scuffle between the two to determine who gets victimized by gravity next.

Peeta gasps and recoils as he ducks halfway down, using his good arm as a shield to cover himself in a knee-jerk reaction. When he notices that the gun went off on his turn and it almost took him down and out, his annoyance at Brutus is renewed and multiplied.

Brutus is all muscles and dormant rage, currently set off by Gale who is trying hard to hurt him with his feeble right hooks. Brutus merely breathes on him and then snickers before he turns his fist into a ball and strikes Gale hard in the chin and then in eye.

Gale fumbles backwards and while he does so, he reaches into his pocket for the gun and weakly throws it at Peeta's direction. Peeta gapes as he starts to make a mad dash across to grab his gun sitting on the ground, begging to be used.

Gale is laying spread across the grass, as good as knocked out from Brutus' one-two punch, coughing desperately and looks confused as to what just transpired. Brutus looms over Gale and notices Peeta running across the field from his side vision, trying to get to the gun. Brutus finally fishes out the other gun in his pocket and points it at Peeta.

"Where do you think you're going, Mellark? We're not finished the game!" Brutus yells at him as he lets a bullet fly out at Peeta. Peeta yelps and dodges the shot, his balance tipping off, falling on the ground close to his gun. He looks at it longingly and pushes himself to stand up or at least crawl just a few more feet away. His leg chooses the most inconvenient time to cramp up again and he is turned immobile, laying flat on his stomach.

"Shit!," Peeta declares as his injured right arm stretches out, fingers shaking in panic and in pain as they are about to be reunited with his gun.

Brutus returns his focus on Gale for the meantime and ignores Peeta, ready to express how disappointed he is at Gale.

"You know what, this is too bad. You're not very loyal to the team. You're a liability, like Mellark," Brutus threatens him.

He whips the gun to the front and without thinking twice and too distracted to ensure accuracy, ends up shooting Gale in the lower right section of his upper torso. Gale gasps and his sight blurs over, trying to decipher Brutus' figure above him as he shrinks in sharp pain.

"NO! GALE!," Peeta screams as he tries to ignore the returning ache on his right arm, clutching the gun and raises it at Brutus while he's still idle, flat on the ground.

The metal of the gun feels too good against his skin as he hastily pulls the trigger after such a long-awaited moment, shooting straight at one of Brutus' legs according to his eye level. Brutus lets out a noise of distress and flails before he takes a dip sideways and hits the ground.

As soon as Brutus' head collides heavily into the dry mud below, Peeta squints and takes this chance to follow up his first shot. He locks his target down in the middle of Brutus' bald head and grunts before he clicks the trigger once again. The explosive sound sends a frenzied bullet whizzing across the space between them and pierces straight through into the centre of Brutus' head, unglamorously cracking his skull open.

Gale blinks as small flecks of blood splash on his face, breathing erratically as Brutus lays lifeless with eyes frozen wide open beside him. Peeta digs his knees into the dirt before standing up, retires the gun hopefully for the day and bolts his way towards Gale. He hasn't looked down on the damage the bullet has caused and instead, gestures for Peeta to lean forward so he can hear him.

"Hey. I think it's about time I tell you. Thanks for looking after Willow. I'm...," Gale chokes and subconsciously grabs a handful of Peeta's shirt. "I'm a worthless, dead-beat..."

* * *

The rusty door of the cabin becomes unhinged as Peeta pounds through it, pausing to survey the mob doctors who are staring at him before he steps back out to grab and haul Gale over himself. He successfully transports Gale inside the cabin and carries him all the way to the hospital bed where he was operated on earlier.

The doctors watch after him with wistful eyes.

Peeta turns to the doctor and notes the slim trail of blood Gale has been spouting out.

"Sorry about the door, and all the mess. But you have to fix my friend here. He's been shot in the stomach, I think," Peeta asks kindly and apologizes.

One of the doctors observe Gale's gunshot wound in dismay and disappears behind a wall to prepare and fetch equipment.

"I don't know Mellark…let me confirm-," the other defiant doctor has the nerves to resist.

Peeta draws the gun out of his pocket, and with blood-covered hand aims it at the doctor's forehead.

"Look I've had a long day and this shirt stinks and I want to shower and have a smoke, lots of smoke, and do absolute nothing or maybe take a nap and I'm not as nice as Gale and I have great accuracy and I am not afraid to use this gun and you should know that by now."

* * *

_What have I become, my sweetest friend?_  
_Everyone I know goes away in the end  
__And you can have it all - my empire of dirt  
__I will let you down. I will make you hurt_

_-Johnny Cash/Nine Inch Nails_


	18. Chapter 18: Raw Umber

Distraught and on the verge of hysteria, Katniss stands in the middle of Peeta's near-empty penthouse condo, slowly scanning each corner with alert eyes for any anomalies. Half of his belongings are tucked away in boxes and half he is giving away to his friends. Cinna, Marvel and Haymitch are taking the big items like couches, drawers and tables. The kitchen appliances will be dealt by Cinna who is responsible for selling them. And all of Peeta's finished artworks that are normally scattered on the floor will be moved to his gallery to be stored away or to be showcased on the walls.

His hard-shell luggage sits by the island counter in the kitchen, packed with carefully selected clothes and shoes, important documents and gadgets. The room feels cold and uninviting without Peeta's art splashing colours and shapes on the walls.

They've been mentally prepared for it; equipped with bags, passports, e-tickets for their one-way flight to Santa Monica, California in two days. Their temporary apartment awaits them as well. All she's missing is him.

She glides on the floor, drawn towards the items he owns, softly running a finger across the countertops, along the couch, one of the bamboo plants sitting by the door to the balcony. She wants to feel his presence, and connecting with his place is the next best thing she could do at the moment.

She saunters towards the balcony door and steps outside, hiccupping at an abrupt avalanche of memories and tries to blame her hormones for feeling overly emotional. Her hands grip the railing around the balcony and peeks below, suddenly curious about the room below Peeta's where a homicide had occurred earlier in the week. It is still wrapped around a tangle of caution tape.

As soon as she lifts her head back up from peering down, she spots a figure moving behind a metallic chimney on the rooftop of a neighbouring condominium. Within a blink of an eye she springs back in alarm from a deafening, explosive sound flying over her head and crashing through the glass door. She yelps as she reflexively sits on the balcony floor, her arms stretched behind her to hold her up.

She curses while crawling in reverse until the cool of what remains of the glass door presses against her skin. The door slides open after blindly reaching for the handle, scampering back inside the condo in a desperate attempt. She finally forces herself to stand up and looks around in fright, tracing the shot and sees where the bullet has lodged itself in the wall.

A wild spark of anger drives her to scour through Peeta's lone drawer in the bedroom, flinging shelves open in search of any weapon for the purpose of retaliation. She sees a gun hiding underneath his old clothes that she recognizes from college days, hoping that it's loaded with bullets. Attached to the barrel of the gun is a suppressor, a device that reduces the amount of noise it generates when fired.

She tiptoes back to the balcony door and rolls it open, slightly popping out into view and ensures one of her eyes can peek beyond the wall. With tremulous hands she slowly lifts the gun towards the condominium rooftop across the street. And at the next sudden movement milling around behind the chimneys and wall structure, she shrinks her eyes and pulls the trigger.

She could almost hear the bullet she released ricochet off a piece of metal as she shrivels back inside the condo, closing the door guardedly in fear of more glass cracking down. It takes her awhile before she realizes she's weeping, her fingers still gripping the gun as if she doesn't plan to let it go. She shuts down all the lights in the room and sits on the kitchen floor, leaning back against the island counter and wrapping an arm around her knees.

A ringing sound disturbs the quiet in the condo, bouncing against walls and echoes into her ears. She detaches her arm from herself and reaches up, clawing at her phone from below. Her other arm is still bent on an angle holding the gun, ready to shoot at the balcony.

"I'm a little teapot, short and stout!" a little voice sings through the line.

"Hi sweetheart. How are you?" Katniss' voice cracks as she tries to trump down a medley of heavy emotions.

"…I'm okay. Are you crying?" Willow asks, quick to pick up on her mother's sadness. "...You can play with my toys..."

"Mommy has a bad cough," she answers, her face screwing in anguish as her eyes clamp shut. Tears stream down her face as she sobs in silence, loosening her shaky grasp on the gun and finally lays it flat on the floor.

"I miss you. When are we all going home?"

Since the downtown shooting incident, Katniss has been distancing herself from her mother and Willow to keep them safe, averting from having to give explanations and always leaving her mother's apartment in a rush. She has been confining herself in her house, mainly in the basement, careful not to turn on too many lights at night.

Katniss wipes her sleeve on her cheek, refusing to cry anymore. "I love you my little teapot."

* * *

She calms her nerves and washes her face in the bathroom sink, heedlessly leaving the gun on the kitchen floor. Brought down by fatigue, she gravitates to Peeta's bedroom and stops by the foot of the bed. It hasn't been made; the blanket is hanging over the edge and the pillows are sitting in a disorganized pile. She climbs onto the mattress on both legs and arms, pushing the pillows out of the way so she could settle in the middle. As she flips one of the pillows over, a smile lights up her face from uncovering something that was buried underneath.

Pleasantly surprised, she gingerly plucks out Peeta's favourite piece of garment, the Armani shirt he wore when he visited her one day bearing peace offerings such as Starbucks and flowers. She allows herself to be overcome by the light feeling brought on by longing and elation, memories making her weightless and engulfed in a cloud of aura associated with Peeta's presence, or lack thereof. She closes her eyes as she nuzzles her nose into the shirt, taking in his scent and is overwhelmed by how much she could almost feel him.

She lowers her hands and her face begins to contort in pain, her body weakening, her bones falling slowly into a messy heap. And as she retreats into the comfort and familiarity of his bed, she embraces his flimsy shirt close to her, crushed against her chest like she doesn't have the stomach to let it go. Her head touches the pillow and her eyes flutter, the breaths through her mouth in small puffs as slumber lingers over and finally claims her.

* * *

Lights are off.

Peeta's condominium is swallowed in the dark and the only source of light is from the hallway outside, barely squeezing through the gap underneath the door.

Katniss sits on her throne; a spare wooden chair she dug out of a closet and laboured over to carry across the room, well positioned a few distance away from the door. She clutches the hand rest while the fingers of her other hand are wrapped around and resting on the trigger of the silencer gun.

Seconds tick as a little bit more of her sanity wilts and expires, staring at the door in full repose and mad concentration. Her index finger twitches.

Half a day has passed and she still has no idea where Peeta is, and who the men were that intercepted his escape. She replays the scene all over and over again much to her own vexation, choking as she lets out one loud sob and then angrily forces her mouth to close with her free hand.

Her trembling hands continue to make awkward love with the gun laying atop the arm rest, taking her quiet frustrations and bottling them so she could file it away.

It takes her a blink or two when she registers motion transpiring outside the door; a suspicious shadow milling about in the dimly lit hallway. She holds her breath and wonders when her life would start flashing in front of her eyes. She waits as another second drags, her eyes peeled wide open at the gap underneath the door.

The door handle starts to jiggle from the outside while the unknown shadow continues to dance to a soundless beat, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal scratching into metal. This prompts Katniss to finally emerge from the chair, her knees trembling as hard as her hand that is strangling the gun.

She lifts her arm and points the weapon straight at the door, tilting her head up before she shoots a quick Hail Mary.

The door gets punched and shaken before it finally swings open, intense light streaming in from the hallway that Katniss' pupils constrict. She grimaces as she carelessly waves the gun at the silhouette in front of her, failing at trying to look fearless.

"Stay away!" she screams at the top of her lungs. "Stay away or I'll blow your brains out!"

The shadow pops out two arms on each side as a form of surrender.

"Whoa, whoa Katniss! It's just me!" Peeta is alarmed and ready to jump at her so she could redirect her aim. "Put the gun down honey…" his tone is lowered to a calmer plea.

"...Peeta?!" her eyebrows furrow, trying to make out the shadow to match his voice. "It's you!"

He flicks the light switch on and what's presented to him is a severely addled Katniss, breathless with glorious sweat glistening all over her forehead and neck. Peeta winces at his silencer gun she's parading and still pointing at him, taking a hesitant step forward before she bolts towards him in wide strides.

The door shuts close behind them as Katniss nearly hops into him, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck.

She ushers him into the shower stall, helping him strip all of his clothes off as he leans an arm out against the sink to hold himself up. She holds extra caution with his injured right arm, slightly shaking her head at all the bandages. Every inch of scratch, bruise, scar she skims over with her eyes and feathery touch, growing restless and sick of seeing his broken body mangled and ridden with broken thoughts.

Streaming hot water brings him comfort and relief, standing idle under the showerhead until all the stains of dried blood on his skin start to liquefy and trickle down his legs. He angles his head up and lavishes his face underneath the strong blast of water, gargling some and then spitting it out.

The door to the stall slowly opens and Katniss steps in naked with a shy smile on her face. They both giggle as they try to fit inside the stall and wrestle with the soap.

She takes her time as she scrubs him generously all over his back, his neck, and turns him around so she could focus on his broad chest, at the same time trying to ignore his erection pointing at her. She glides the soap over his face until he has small bubbles for a beard, laughing as he starts to make goofy faces at her.

She really wanted to assist him in showering, let him relax and be fully cleansed from grime and accumulated streaks of blood. After dropping a load of shampoo into his hair, she finds herself pressed against glass wall moaning his name against his mouth.

Her right leg is lifted up and wrapped halfway around him, the water making it difficult for her to keep it still as it slides little by little across his soaked skin. His left hand is hidden behind her leg as two of his fingers pump in and out of her on a wild, hungry pace, pushing her even harder against the stall, his lips mingling with hers as his tongue dives deep inside, re-marking its territory.

He plucks his mouth off hers and then lands it on her shoulder, sucking on her wet skin, letting his fingers continue to bury within her swollen folds as her fingernails glide and dig into his back.

She screams some profanity and a series of gibberish as she closes her eyes and allows herself to be lost in a frenzy of sensation, and in between, slips out a silent tear from feeling overjoyed because Peeta has returned to her.

* * *

She sits in the middle of his bed, drying her hair with a towel before she lays on the pillow. She changes her mind then turns sideways, folding an arm and resting her head on her hand as she watches Peeta grin at her and saunter across the room, still refusing to put some clothes on. He peeks into the same drawer where Katniss found the silencer gun and crinkles his nose, pulling out an old pair of underwear with small holes. He beams as he puts it on and poses in front of Katniss.

"Do you still find me sexy?" he says with a British accent trying to imitate Austin Powers, thrusting forward as he displays the worn-out garment.

Katniss doesn't look impressed. "...I honestly don't know what to say or feel about this."

"Damn. This underwear and I go way back."

"Haven't you had that since you were in highschool?" Katniss is desperate to keep her lips straight from curling up into a smile.

"Hell yeah. It's still sort of good…" He glances down at himself before he approaches Katniss in bed.

"Peeta. It has holes. It's about time you part from it, and all your other clothing with holes and rips," she says in mild agitation.

"Are you kidding me? No way! I'm taking these to California with us." He usually enjoys teasing Katniss because she tends to bite the hook.

"No Peeta!," she pauses and takes a sharp intake of air. "I'll buy you new undies, ok? They will be nice and new. Boxers, briefs, boxer briefs, you name them, I'll get them."

"You know, it's tough for us guys to break up with our old things. That's why we keep them forever," he emphasizes on the word 'forever'. He sits cross-legged near the edge of the mattress while Katniss scoots over to make room for him. She moves to lie down completely on her back.

"…I'm a keeper," he adds as he hovers over her and waggles his eyebrows.

"…So, do I have the same fate as your scraggly underwear?" she reaches up and playfully punches him in his good arm.

"But you're perfect and lovely, unlike me," he says, letting out a short chuckle at how ridiculous he is about to sound. "You're nothing like my scraggly underwear."

"Honey," she looks him in the blue of his eyes. "I'm not close to being perfect. But we can be imperfect together, and have imperfect jobs, imperfect kids, imperfect lives..."

Peeta smiles from ear to ear, now switching his focus onto her stomach. "So…I can keep you? Like my scraggly underwear?" He lifts her shirt timidly with two pinched fingers, pushing the fabric up so he could have a full view of her stomach. Five weeks pregnant and proud with barely a bump. "You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Katniss. I may be rough on the edges, but I'll love you forever."

Katniss merely gives him a tender smile as he lazily draws loops and lines on her stomach, leans down and showers it with plenty of light kisses.

* * *

She fights back sleep.

It's one in the morning and she insists on watching Peeta fall helpless into a deep sleep, snoring and randomly kicks thin air. She wonders what he's dreaming about.

She studies his long lashes, the blond swirls of his hair, slightly ajar lips as he wheezes through it, and the stubble he has collected all over his jaws. She reaches for the lamp and clicks it off, yawning as she realizes how extremely drained she has been feeling.

Peeta stirs a little and snakes his arm around Katniss' waist to draw her nearer, snuggling closer and tucking his nose underneath her cheek. She places a hand and runs it softly along the taut muscles of his arm and sighs into his hair.

"Don't leave anymore…" she makes a quiet plea in the dark, hoping that it registers and that he hears her in the midst of his dream.

Twilight creeps along a few hours later and she is pushed into consciousness, shooting up off the bed when her roaming hands feel nothing but the wrinkled blanket that was supposed to be draped over Peeta. She sadly looks far out through the wall-length window facing the rising sun and sees miniscule light being reflected from the downtown traffic on the roads below, wrapping the blanket around herself as she starts to feel cold from feeling alone.

* * *

He marches through the stretch of Cato's warehouse, boots clicking against the concrete floor and cowboy hat intact. He has faded blue jeans and white tank top on, unlit cigarette sticking out awkwardly and almost falling off his lips. His freshly-wrapped, injured arm can swing more liberally now, but still fixed on an angle nonetheless.

His other hand is holding a large-sized red fuel container and he is wearing a sheepish, troublesome look on his face.

He whistles to a nameless tune as he covers most of the area in the warehouse, spilling fuel unsparingly, the artistic side of him busting out and creating flamboyant patterns on the floor. He peeks into the spout as he approaches the last ounce of fuel, chucking the empty container aside and rummages in the aisles to pick up another one. After re-running the whole length of the rectangular building from one end to the opposite, he curses as he almost slides when he turns into Cato's office. He cracks his knuckles before he smothers Cato's most prized oak desk in gas. He tosses the container over his shoulder and makes his way out to the very back of the warehouse, running a hand over his pocket to verify if he has a lighter with him.

His cigarette begs to be lit but something else demands his attention.

He hears a car pull up outside and its engine die. Curious, he runs towards the noise and hops on to one of the many neglected construction machinery littered across a section of the compound; a thirty year old bulldozer in all its rustic glory. He climbs up the vehicle and settles on the edge of the seat, half his shoes hanging off the ledge.

It's a few hours into the morning and the sun is already beating down harsh. He zeroes in on the only movement whirling around in the dumping grounds, watching Cato jump out of the Lincoln he parked beside his Lexus. Peeta tilts his cowboy hat down as he greets his former boss who is walking on a tediously slow pace, both hands hidden in his trench coat pockets. He frees one to shield his eyes from the sun, looking up at Peeta from afar before he ducks and disappears from his elevated platform on the bulldozer.

"You know what Peeta, I'm real tired of your shit," Cato starts, chewing on gum and talks to a tall pyramid of bald tires. By this time he has fully stepped into the maze of rotting construction equipment, massive vehicles and parts that were either stolen or rejected over the years. "You think you can go around killing my hitmen, sneaking around with my girlfriend, pissing at my operation instructions and bashing my face into cars?" He subconsciously points at the gash on his forehead with a shaky finger and inquires him from across two aisles of metal that he hasn't forgotten about it.

"Guilty as charged," Peeta answers as the cigarette stick maintains balance between his lips. He stays close to a pile of unused concrete slabs and tries to estimate how far, or close, Cato's proximity is. He glances sideways before he takes the corner around the slabs. "You could have just deducted from my pay if I was being an ass. You didn't have to set me up in your To-Kill list and have Finnick put on a show before he could slip a bullet in my head. Fucker!"

"Finnick was a detail-oriented craftsman when it comes to his kill. He was obedient, competent, and worked independently," Cato is eerily calm and sighs in over-exaggeration. "It's true. I didn't know what I had until it was, well...impaled with arrows." He reaches the pile of concrete slabs and internally cusses his shoes for generating too much noise when the soles scratch against small rocks and sand on the ground. He whips his head around and is able to catch a quick peek of Peeta's blond hair zooming by behind a discontinued model of a backhoe loader.

Peeta talks louder as he sneaks around behind another loader, trying to dodge Cato and hopes to trap him by the end of the aisle up ahead. "So exactly how were you two plotting my death? Was he waiting for me to book a spot in a restaurant patio before shooting me in front of a crowd, the way he got rid of Heath?"

"Oh, let's not talk about Heath. You'll reopen closed wounds. He was my bestfriend…"

"That's a load of crap, you know that Cato," Peeta gnarls at him from underneath the lid of his hat. "You mad, bro?"

The two reach the end of the row of vehicles in unison and pop out from both sides of a decrepit soil compactor, intense and in mutual understanding that they both need to express their loathe towards each other.

"Peeta. There are so many things you don't understand about this industry. Besides, I bet the city has breathed better since he died that horrible death," Cato says as a matter of fact.

"I don't give a rat's ass about this damned industry and stop talking to me so calmly the way my father does. You're creeping me out!" Peeta's left hand swiftly reaches into his pocket and draws out his gun awkwardly, Cato's expression unreadable and offers him a fake smile. He mirrors Peeta's action and pulls out his own gun but proceeds to spread his arms out in surrender.

"How about we do this without weapons, huh? Fist to fist, like a real man," Cato suggests.

"How about we have a race? Whoever drives out of this compound alive wins." Peeta plays with the cigarette by moving his lips around.

This prompts them to turn their heads and calculate how far they have to make a dash to get to their cars that are both parked right outside the entryway into the metal scrap maze. Peeta considers Cato's advice to leave out the guns this time and begins to lower his weapon, staring up at him while he places it on the ground.

"Good. We finally agree on something, huh Peet," Cato sounds reassuring and follows Peeta's trail, bending over and taking the time while laying his gun beside the pistol.

Peeta is getting irritated by how slow Cato is moving, watching the back of his blond hair as Cato is almost bowing down in front of him. What Peeta doesn't know is that Cato has quickly gathered a mound of sand and dirt in his hand after the gun has touched the ground. As Cato springs upright, he stretches his arm and flings all the small debris unannounced into Peeta's eyes.

Peeta jerks back in surprise and curses at Cato as his hands fly to cover his face, scowling at the sting of coarse grains of sand sticking in his eyeballs. Cato luxuriates in this chance to attack first and curls his fist, rushing in with a left hook into Peeta's stomach.

He holds on to his hat and lurches inwards, desperate to blink and reset his vision, some sands now accumulating in the corner of his eyes washed along by a few tears. Cato laughs as he buffers up for an uppercut, connecting into Peeta's chin and sends him staggering backwards into a small mountain of disassembled car bumpers sitting on the floor of a truck that is missing a door. Peeta winces while he grits his teeth and bites into his cigarette, picking up a bumper and immediately slides it out of the truck.

He swings around with it while he repositions to face Cato standing a couple of feet behind him, lugging the long piece of metallic car part and struggles to decipher Cato's figure and his black coat beyond the pain of keeping his eyelids open. Despite the disadvantage, Peeta is still moving on a fast speed and charges in, striking Cato on one side of his face and smashes the other side into the trailer of the truck. The whole vehicle shifts from the impact.

Cato is bleeding from the mouth and swipes his sleeve across his lips in haste, leering at Peeta who has dropped the bumper and returned his focus on poking at his eye.

"Son of a-!" Peeta yelps as Cato growls and picks him up by the collar, pushing him into the steps of the truck. He still insists on keeping the Marlboro stick lodged in his mouth and the hat snug on his head. He tries to counter by grabbing Cato's neck and strangling him, but his right arm is still clumsy and disabled. It starts to protest by throbbing in mild pain.

"I should've left you for dead…" Cato whispers, maintaining a suffocating grip on Peeta.

"Bad decisions make the best stories," Peeta retorts as his face turns a shade of red. He releases a string of coughs and uses all his strength to push Cato down until his legs shake and cave in from the pressure, shrinking inches below Peeta. Wanting to break free from Cato's hold, he then folds his knee in and raises his leg, jamming it hard into Cato's chest twice.

Cato flails and fumbles, falling on his ass and writhes in pain. Peeta shakes his head as he looks down at him, hand digging in to his pocket to fish out his car keys. He turns on his heels and leaves Cato who is in the process of standing back up, bewildered and frustrated.

They skirt around the maze, eluding sharp flying objects they're hurling at each other from across the aisles, the thought of reclaiming their guns on the ground long forgotten. Peeta suddenly skids to a halt when he realizes Cato has caught up, running parallel to him on the other side of the wall of broken vehicles. Peeta takes a sharp intake of air as he backs off before running into the same pyramid of old tires Cato passed by earlier, leaping high and stretches his leg as he kicks down the rubber sitting on the very top of the pile.

The wind gets knocked out of Cato as he gets shoved by the offending, flying wheel with Peeta connected just behind it. Cato angrily swats the tire off of him and watches Peeta land awkwardly on his knees but is quick to regain his pace, glancing back at Cato who is recomposed but showing a little limp in his steps.

Peeta reaches his car and revs the engine hard, allocating a bit of time driving around in small circles to summon dirt and dust to create a screen of smoke before Cato could reunite with his car. Peeta makes his tires work for him as he maneuvers away from the Lincoln when he spots Cato materialize from behind the blur, unfazed and his shadow growing.

He swerves around wrecking machines, dirty loaders, scratching his car against the tip of dull shovels, instigating Cato to follow his tracks. He snickers as he checks his rearview mirror and sees the Lincoln looming a few yards behind.

Not thinking and looking ahead, he screams as he almost collides into a dead-end, a pumper truck parked across the space, blocking the way out of the metal labyrinth. He grunts as he pulls at the steering wheel and makes an extreme sharp left turn into a narrower pathway, the sound of his car getting scraped on the sides making him sneer in rage. He checks the mirror again and is relieved that Cato is still following close.

Their cars take another turn that hugs too close to the machines and finally emerge from the dumping grounds, Cato's face screwing into confusion as he attempts to figure out what the hell Peeta is doing, driving like a mad man on his way to the inside of the warehouse.

Peeta huffs as he shoves himself and his car through the wide entryway into the building, suddenly remembering that he still has a cigarette dangling from his mouth. They drive along giant racks that extend as high as the warehouse ceiling, and at one point Cato has fully caught up with Peeta and rear-ends him.

Peeta's neck flings back as he experiences a whiplash from the push of Cato's car. He reaches down on the gear and suddenly reverses the Lexus, jamming down the gas pedal all the way to nudge him back.

As urgent as he reversed, Peeta switches to drive, screeching away from Cato in maximum speed and rolls down his window. His eyes flit upwards again at the rearview mirror and sees that Cato hasn't moved forward and is stuck behind, idle in the middle of the warehouse.

Peeta yanks the lighter from his jean pocket and flicks it once, flicks it twice, sticks his hand out the window and chucks the flame backwards.

By the time he drives through the open exit out of the warehouse, his eyes roll down to his cigarette and almost kicks himself when he remembers to do something that is one second too late.

"Shit I forgot to light my-"

The force from the explosion is rapid and exceedingly powerful that his car is actually pushed forward by an invisible wind. The warehouse shoots out debris, roof parts and planks of wood, a bellowing, magnificent fire amplifying and eating the warehouse from the inside. His head almost bangs against the steering wheel as he lunges forward, turning his car around and stopping the engine.

He steps out, hands on hips, cigarette still stuck between his lips, admiring the way the relentless fire branches out and crawls, giving birth to small sparks and watching them multiply into massive flames.

He eyes down a piece of wood licked by small fire, rolling on four edges and stops inches from Peeta's shoes. He grins and picks it up, carefully keeping the flame steady by blocking out wind with a hand. He sighs as he dips his head down and is finally able to light his cigarette, hissing at pleasure and the view of the warehouse slowly being disintegrated to ground zero.

* * *

He pulls into a strip mall, parking his scratched, dented Lexus badly burnt in certain parts. He takes his hat off and places it on the passenger seat.

He charges inside the store; bruised down, showcasing random traces of blood on his shirt and his face, dirt, dust and sand embedded in his tangle of blond hair. The sales lady gapes at him from behind the counter, cowering back and feeling the need to call the security. He basks in free air conditioning and the sweet smell of girly perfume.

He has one more outstanding item on his agenda for today that he needs to check off.

"Sell me your fattest, shiniest, most pompous ring."


	19. Chapter 19: Burnt Sienna

**A/N: I've been back from my vacation in Belize and recovering for a week. It's where I faced an old fear of sharks and sting rays. I kissed a shark in the tummy while the guide held it and I even patted a sting ray! It was awesome, but finding it hard to get back into the groove of things after the vacay was not. I was unhappy with how I was writing this chapter.**

**A reviewer asked if Peeta would get caught for arson in the previous chapter. He probably should have (if there was witness by the pier or if the cops could link him to the crispy lighter)! But if he did, he'd need to go to court, he would serve jail time, and I guess his filthy rich family would bail him out. But I wasn't intending the story to go that way when I laid the chapter down, I was madly focused on refining the action sequence and how accurately I could transfer the scenes in my twisted head onto words :) I try really hard guys, and it gets tough sometimes! I apologize for being too lazy to get technical and CSI-ish. I hope you still enjoy my story. **

**Thank you, I'm grateful for all the feedback :D **

* * *

There was word around the water that the warehouse by the lakeshore was a bit cursed. Built in 1910 and renounced in the 40's due to mismanagement and financial issues, it was later put up for auction and bought by a local farmer who passed away under unknown circumstance shortly after acquiring it for his business. None of his family stepped forward to claim the property, neither could they reach a decision on what to do with it. When the farmer's case went cold, the building has fallen abandoned again. It didn't take long until nearby businesses, such as garages and factories started dumping their scraps and reject parts into the compound and also inside warehouse.

It is simple, slim but tall, and was able to stand on weak foundation over the years. The walls were constructed with cheap material and the roof has torn off at some areas, further nursing random holes. Whenever it rained, the interior would get slightly flooded and that prompted Cato to elevate his office a couple of steps higher.

He had always kept his partition in the warehouse under somewhat of a minimalist influence. But the walls that were off-white are now black and chipping off, the TV that was once mounted on the wall is covered in ash and lying face down on a pile of burnt planks. The heavy oak desk still stands mighty in the middle of the room, its edges blunt and toasted from the fire. The contemporary lamp that Glimmer had brought in and thoughtfully placed on Cato's desk sits lonely on the edge, the shade withered into nothing and the apple green trunk now a thick shade of gray.

While Peeta exits off the highway to make a quick stop at a jewelry store, something shuffles behind the wooden door that leads down to the basement underneath the sturdy old oak desk. The scuffle is followed by a loud noise as it gets pounded from the opposite side below, each hit underlined with an increasing demand for it to open. A disassembled part of an office chair is flung to the side as the door finally flies open and a hand slowly emerges, stained by streaks of ashes clutching on to the floor, followed by emerging blond set of hair.

* * *

Katniss sits in the middle of the floor in her bland living room, her eyes plastered to the television which is one of the items she is leaving behind, along with an empty hutch and buffet tucked away in a kitchen corner soon to be owned by her mother. Mrs. Everdeen had decided she will follow them to California in a couple of years, proclaiming she has grown fond of Texas and will most likely retire by the time she leaves the state. Katniss' and Willow's luggage rest side by side near the main door; topped with binder full of documents and printed transaction receipts.

She dunks her fork in the middle of the plastic bowl full of salad and pierces it through a piece of lettuce, slowly bringing it up to her lips, her other hand busy gripping the cell phone to her ear. She has been attempting to contact her mother to no avail.

She winces at the television screen, paying half attention to it because of some nagging anxiety inside that she can't quite shrug off. She filters out words as she hears and reads them, eyebrows furrowing at the exact moment of recognition. A news reporter is standing many yards away from a burnt skeletal structure of what once was a building, all traces of flame now fully extinguished, haunted by a thin trail of smoke above.

"...the fire was one thing, but what lies concealed underneath this old warehouse by the pier here on Rincon Road, which has transformed into a free dumping ground over many years, has indeed baffled the investigators even more. Stacks of various weapons are housed in its dark basement; some categorized as stolen, a few are unregistered, and most of them owned and used by Cato Thorpe. A name that has rubbed shoulders with and has established itself among the local police force..."

Katniss' hand freezes halfway into her mouth, the other one continuing to work with the cell phone but is now dialing a different phone number.

* * *

Peeta drives leisurely along in the suburbs where Katniss has resided in for the past two years and pulls up into her driveway, stepping out of his wounded white Lexus and now donned in clean, fresh clothes. He whistles as he almost hops along the pathway, passing by Katniss' violets and hydrangeas and a real estate sign with the word Sold in huge font, not an evidence of dirt or burn on his hair and face.

Before he could lift his lightly bandaged right arm up to press the doorbell, the door swings open and he is greeted by an overblown scowl on Katniss' face.

"Where have you been?," she asks in a stressed, high-pitch tone. Her arms come up to cross in front of her chest and her eyes shrink at him through thick-rimmed glasses. She's breathing hard through flaring nostrils and Peeta fights the urge to reach out and pinch her cheek.

"I was..." he trails and pauses to peek behind Katniss, glancing at the television because a picture of Cato has randomly popped up under the main headline. "I was shopping...?"

"Of course, of course! So what were you shopping for, Peeta?"

"...new underwear?," Peeta's face screws in growing confusion as his eyes dart wildly between Katniss and the TV in the background.

"Liar!" Katniss challenges him to answer the question again. "You weren't buying stuff, you hate shopping!"

"Oh I was shopping alright," Peeta slowly falls slack and starts to looks sheepish as corners of his lips coyly tug up into a smile. "Wouldn't _you_ want to know what I was really shopping for," he says in a teasing voice.

Katniss ignores his attempt to douse the fire and turns halfway around to point at the TV with a shaking finger. "Did you do that?"

The grossly animated look of disbelief and repulsion on Peeta's face is almost making Katniss laugh, much to her chagrin. He snorts as his hands start flying in all directions.

"Has anyone ever entertained the idea that maybe, _just_ maybe an electrical error gave off a spark and the piece of shit of a warehouse finally gave in and blew itself up ka-blamo? And that maybe I was sort of kinda not really but somewhat responsible for it?"

Katniss holds a blank look as she repeats in over-exaggeration. "You made it go _ka-blamo_?"

"Yes, honeybun, ka-blamo_,_" he says firmly, eyes rolling back up to the TV screen as he tries to absorb the news report.

Katniss blows air through pursed lips and flips a hand in the space between herself and Peeta.

"You know what, whatever, okay? You want to go around burning stuff, by all means go on right ahead," Katniss retreats and returns her focus back to her cell phone.

"Exactly. On to more important matter, we have to get going. I booked us a hotel room for tonight near the airport, and I want to head over there soon," Peeta gives his instruction and starts to look around the room.

"Peeta I have always loved your spontaneity but sometimes it just gets a little bit too much."

There is a hint of panic that overtakes his expression when he becomes fully aware of something. "...Where's Willow?"

"I've been trying to contact my mother and she's not answering her phone," she frowns and reflects the look of worry on Peeta's face.

He blinks and suddenly grabs her hand, dragging her out of the house and almost throws her into his scarred car. Katniss acknowledges the damages on its doors but doesn't question anything, sighing as she looks out the window while Peeta zips out of her driveway.

* * *

Anita Everdeen lives in a modest apartment near the downtown area. It boasts one bedroom, one den, a small kitchen and a spacious living room. Her walls are mostly adorned with pictures of Willow, and in her bedroom hangs one single portrait of her late husband.

Peeta is bolting through the hallway on the second floor of the apartment building with Katniss trailing a few inches behind, nearly tripping on herself and over Peeta who is huffing nervously in front of her.

What freezes him still into his spot is an object that looms ahead of them by the end of the hallway, laid carelessly on the carpeted floor right across Mrs. Everdeen's ajar door. Willow's Eeyore stuffed toy sits on its side, neglected and lonely and looks more depressed than ever, slowly striking Katniss into realization and sending Peeta to a suppressed yet boiling rage.

"Oh my God..." Katniss barely speaks as her shoulder crashes into Peeta when she tries to skirt around him so she could gallop towards Willow's stuffed toy. "Willow?!" Her voice is low and rough, tinged with pending doom.

Peeta stays a few feet behind; almost hesitant to come closer to Mrs. Everdeen's apartment as he watches Katniss pick up Eeyore off the floor. She hiccups, poking her head over the door to look inside the room, painfully timid and petrified beyond wits.

She gasps as she ducks inside after slamming the door open in urgency, letting out stifled little screams when she sees her mother lying helplessly on the floor in the living room.

"Mom? Mom!..." Katniss yells in alarm, almost crushing her when she hugs her close and picks her up to gather her in her arms. "Mom what happened?!"

Peeta finally follows and approaches the door but stands immobile by the opening, extending his arms sideways as he clutches the wooden frame. He breathes deeply and winks an eye midway, mind tumbling over possibilities and bad scenarios that illustrate all things that might be happening to Willow. He shakes his thoughts off and contemplates the man who wants him dead more than anything, backtracking to when he thought he killed him, and attempting to pinpoint where it could have went wrong.

Katniss turns around to glance at him as a tear escapes her eye, the look of terror on her face speaking volumes, leaving out words to accentuate how she feels. Her lips turn crooked as she begins to sob out loud, whipping her head back to the front as soon as she hears her mother cough. Mrs. Everdeen blooms into full consciousness, bewildered by the sight of a breathless Katniss looking down on her and the throbbing headache that is ripping her head in half.

"There were men...," Mrs. Everdeen begins, fingers pointing at nothing in particular. "...they took Willow..." She pauses to choke in her own spit and blinks away little dark blurs that are slowly invading her vision.

Peeta's face is stone hard and unreadable, fists curling into angry balls trying to dig into the frame of the door. His eye lids fall heavy and shut close at the budding of a thought, desperate to regulate his breathing as a means of maintaining whatever may be left of his sanity.

Katniss shakes her head, gripping her mother's arm, refusing to believe that the mob had figured out where she's been hiding her daughter and had intruded to take her away. By the time she turns to look back up at Peeta, he is long gone.

* * *

He finds himself sneaking his way into the pier, currently closed off to public and open to investigators. He jumps over a rotting fence at the exact instance the last FBI agent bends over to close the door to the basement of the warehouse and then continues to make his way to the rental car.

Peeta dusts himself off while he keeps low to the ground, hiding amongst overgrown weeds and ready to pounce out. As the federal agent's car drives out of the compound he stands upright, uses his hand to shield his eyes from the sting of the sun and examines the area under great scrutiny.

With the remains of the warehouse behind him, the pier to his left, the wooded area to his right, and the small empty parking lot in front of him, he is motionless smack in the middle of the compound. After stretching minutes and watching tumbleweeds bounce and disappear, he twists his neck to look over his shoulder.

"…Cato…" he quietly calls out to his nemesis, careful not to stir the water. His eyes slide slight to the right as his injured right hand twitches above his pocket. Nothing but silence and another round of tumbleweed respond to him.

"…Oh Cato?" he singsongs his name as he invites him to come out.

He is starting to get impatient from inactivity on Cato's end, feeling dramatic gusts of hot wind blowing in from behind as they pass him by to journey onto the sea. He fidgets when he realizes he's bored, wincing at the dancing crystals on the water before he kicks some sand and turns to head to the street. Three steps out and an obscure ringing noise that shakes the compound awake pulls him back in to the spot where he was idling.

He is hurtling around scouting like a wild dog, eager and confused at the same time, eyeing down an old-fashioned phone booth installed behind an electrical post. He takes a second to second-guess himself before he dashes towards the tilted phone booth sticking out of the ground, wonderfully surprised that the ancient thing still works. He estimates one tiny kick can probably uproot it and send it to its finality.

He shoots it an incredulous look before he picks it up, borderline disgusted to press it against his ear.

"Hello?," he asks, suddenly suspicious that the phone booth may explode in his face.

"You know what's cute?," Cato's voice fills in the poor, scratchy line. "Willow's button nose. Can't conclude whether she got it from Katniss or Gale. What do you think?"

Peeta subconsciously brings a hand to his forehead and runs it down in fatigue.

"If you lay one finger on her I will make you bleed really badly, you sick bastard."

"Aww, come on. Me? Hurt this little munchkin?" Cato pauses and Peeta is desperate to hear a faint hint of her voice in the background. "Now why in damnation would I want to do that?"

"I don't know, because you're a sick fuck," Peeta exhales into the receiver and glances behind him. "Where are you taking her?" He maintains a cool bravado because he can't afford to unleash tantrums at this dire moment. He needs answers.

Cato chooses to agitate him by steeping the conversation in hard silence. Peeta holds his breath and for the first time, and very much in denial, feels he is in the mercy of Cato.

"I'm off to see an old friend, whom I held dear once," he finally replies in a grave tone, empty and dark, and hangs up the phone.

* * *

Peeta's eyebrows are crunched up in mild agitation, lounging in the corner seat of the very front pew of the chapel. He sits, stewing in his own melancholy, the weight of his thoughts making him come apart at the seams as he launches on an internal conflict with himself. The pieces of what made up the man he used to be have congregated and resurfaced to give him a good slap of clear sense, a loose grasp of reality to anchor him to the ground. It questions him what kind of animal he has become, and acknowledges the blaring need to re-instill his fear in God.

His eyes drill into the giant, perfectly varnished crucifix hanging overhead in front of him, slipping an overdue prayer and a plea for forgiveness. He curls inwards and buries his head in his hands, elbows resting atop his knees, muttering Our Father into his palms.

He pulls back up and yanks the gun out of his pocket in the same process, and for a short while he has forgotten that he sports a flesh wound in his good shooting right arm. He cringes at his bandage and cringes even more at the weapon sitting cozy in the middle of his hand.

What would it take to finally give up the gun and get rid of it for good? How worse should things escalate to before he admits that violence begets violence and if he wants the course of things and his karma to change, the change has to begin with him. Thoughts and questions continue to circulate around him, and all at once it dawns on him that perhaps he craves adrenaline, that he has lived to kill, and just like smoking, he will always need his fix. But that is not an excuse.

He surprises himself when a quick, loud sob escapes him and goes off to bend against the walls of the pristine chapel, feeling out of place as he fidgets, suffocated from the overwhelming smell of smoky incense and flowers that remind him of funerals. His free hand springs up to cover his mouth, the other having a mind of its own as it discreetly hides the gun back into his pocket.

His legs stretch and drag him off the pew, taking him up the wide steps and on a short trip to the middle of the altar. His injured arm stretches out to reach for the giant of a crucifix, specifically wiping the feet of the Body of Christ before he takes his fingers to do the sign of the cross; a swift dab on the forehead, down to the middle of his chest, and side to side on both shoulders.

He then places a hand on the area just above the knee for support as the other knee folds in and bends down, lingering in mid-air for a second as he bows his head towards the holy images displayed on the altar. He decides to carry on the final task at hand, pivoting sharply and aims for the side exit door of the chapel.

* * *

Treading along the stoned pathway out of the chapel building into the sprawling, well-manicured cemetery of Holy Cross, he notices the grass below his feet is abnormally green, incredibly rich green that he questions the authenticity of it. Dews that clung on to tips of grass fling aside as Peeta's shoes slide against the freshly-cut surface when he steps off the pathway to change his direction.

He performs caution, dodging tombstones after tombstones jutting out of the earth, hoping to heavens he is not bothering the dead that much. He stays close to low trees, not entirely sure where he is going, but he sure has to head somewhere. He passes huge mausoleums built by wealthy families a good distance away which showcase solemn, overly blown-up pictures of the deceased laying inside, eyes seemingly alive and animated. Peeta swears those eyes are watching him from afar, following his every movement until it manages to actually disturb him.

But the paranoia buzzing around him ultimately flutters away as soon as he marches deeper into the cemetery where more shady trees sway, the wind is quieter and the birds are eerily louder. He spots Cato's profile as he hovers over a tombstone, chin tucked underneath the collar of his black trench coat, eyes downcast. He senses Peeta's presence but does not react to it. Instead, he continues to look at the section of grass-covered ground that is supposed to be housing the remains of Heath Everdeen.

Peeta slightly raises an eyebrow, somewhat intrigued by Cato's concentration as he stands frozen by Heath's tombstone, the back of it facing Peeta from where he is coming from. And as he approaches Cato in a hurried pace to close the gap, air gets stuck in his throat and his feet are locked down on its tracks after he sees past the chunk of stone and it is revealed to him what has been hiding behind it.

His heart races upon spotting Willow sitting on the grass, almost leaning back on her grandfather's tombstone while wearing the most uncertain look on her face. She clutches a Cabbage Patch doll tightly and brightens at the sight of Peeta, but it is quickly replaced by fright when she doubts the man standing behind her would play nice at all when she notices that Peeta is gritting his teeth at him.

Cato wriggles his arm as he keeps a gun directed at the back of Willow's head, staring dead into Peeta's eyes a few feet across. For a fleeting moment it looked as if Peeta was about to lose control, but he takes a sharp intake of air and tries to clear his mind to focus on the single most important matter to him right at this very moment.

Willow's life is in danger.

Peeta lifts his hands to show to Cato how empty and weaponless they are.

"Cato. You want to deal with me, not with the kid," he reminds him calmly. "Please let the girl go."

"Did I hear that right? Peeta Mellark begging and pleading. To me, out of all people," Cato looks pleased, the hand that is pointing the gun waving a little bit when he laughs a noiseless laugh, his shoulders heaving up and down. Peeta forgets how to blink and has resorted to glaring at Cato.

"…Daddy…please…" Willow looks up at him with her beady eyes and quivering lips.

"Willow, close your ears-"

"Oh, that is…" Cato shakes his head as his mouth curls into what Peeta categorizes as an attempt to a smile. "That is so freaking precious, Mellark. She calls you daddy?"

Cato moves to take a better glimpse of Willow below him who now has both hands cupping her ears. "Remarkable. Katniss had that exact same look on her face after Finnick shot the shit out of her dad right in front of her!"

Cato's eyes are wide and excited, but not as excited as the finger that lays on the trigger of the gun he's pointing down at Willow's dark brown hair.

"Now you're just fucking with me," Peeta insists.

"Daddy I want to go home," Willow starts to protests and appears to be oblivious to Cato towering behind her. He rests the back of his shoe against the tombstone behind him and taunts Peeta with a wink.

"Willow, close your eyes!" Peeta suddenly yells at her, instantly regretting raising his voice as hurt reflects on his face. She is taken aback by the aggressiveness in him but does what she is told, squeezing her eyes shut as she begins to sniff.

He adds to his request, "Now count to ten."

"Isn't that what we do, what we've always done, Peet? Fuck up each other. Mess each other up," Cato says casually, accompanied by a small, careless shrug.

"…One…" Willow starts to count.

"Damn right you fucked me up. You dragged me along and built me to be a mindless killer, all for your own benefit," Peeta trembles as his right hand itches over his pocket where he keeps his gun.

"…Two…"

"It's been fun having you as my dog in the past three years. And that's all there is and that's all you've always been, Peeta. Just my dog," Cato spits out as his face sours in disgust. "How dare you bite the hand of your master after how well I have taken you in?"

"That is complete hogwash. You are way off and out of your mind. I wasn't lost to begin with, idiot!"

Cato chuckles. "Down, boy!"

"…Three…"

Thinking he'd allow himself the luxury just this one time, Peeta lets his outrage to take over, drawing his weapon with his injured right arm. But still, his hand proves to be awkward and clumsy as he frowns in pain when he tries to apply a decent grip over his gun. Cato raises his weapon and shoots the one out of Peeta's hold without much effort, showing off his accuracy.

Peeta is startled and gasps in terror as he watches his gun get pushed over by Cato's bullet, dropping to the ground and the explosive noise from the shot driving Willow into full fledged tears.

"…Four!..." she continues to count in fear despite not knowing what is happening around her behind closed eyes.

Cato flashes Peeta a smirk and returns the aim of his gun back to Willow's head. Cato is all authority when he realizes he has full control of the situation now, knocking Peeta's weapon off to his advantage and confirming that Peeta's shooting arm is still pretty much disabled.

A slew of emotions cross over Peeta's face, defeat being the front runner. His eyes detach themselves from his gun now buried in the grass by his feet and they crawl back up to lock with Cato's. His arms raise and spread open in surrender, stretching the smile on Cato's face even wider.

"…Five…"

Peeta could feel his heart pumping out of his throat, his muscles tensing and his mind doing acrobats and gallantly racing with itself.

"Peeta, bro, dude…I never thought I'd say this," Cato looks like the perfect portrait of a jackass and shakes his head in disappointment. "…but you are sweating bullets!"

"…Six…"

Just as Cato has pointed out, a bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face but he refuses to wipe it off, maintaining his arms locked on an L in mid-air, trying to look harmless and hoping that Cato would change his mind about Willow and maybe kill him instead.

"Cato, you have a knife hiding somewhere in there," Peeta says as a matter of fact, staring at the knife handle slightly poking out of Cato's slacks pocket.

"…Seven…"

"So what?"

Peeta sighs as if he was being hassled. "Never thought I'd say this but, I actually figured you'd know better than to bring a knife to a gunfight."

"…Eight…"

"Yeah why not? I could skewer you in to make sure you're dead after I shoot you in the head," Cato grumbles in a threatening tone.

Peeta's eyes shrink and gives Cato his patented expression when it's mere seconds right before he gets in trouble. "…In the what? Where?"

"…Nine…"

Cato is now showing traces of annoyance. "Are you deaf? I said in the h-"

As swift as Cato's tongue and as unannounced as the surprised look on his face, Peeta suddenly takes his uninjured left arm and shoves it down into his left pocket. In a split second that felt like it's split further in half, he whips his hand back up and a shiny silencer gun emerges along with it, fingers naturally slinking around the handle, motions as smooth as its metal.

With his injured right arm still spread out in feigned submission, his left stretches out to point the gun and aims at the narrow area between Cato's eyes. Cato's face sours in dismay and newfound awareness, his hand holding the gun now forced to react to Peeta's sharp movement and ultimately, to the other gun pointing right back at him.

"...Ten."

"...Son of a b-!" Cato gets cut off while he grimaces at the small burst of flame that materializes out of Peeta's gun barrel as he clicks the trigger and releases a straight bullet right into his forehead, quietly piercing through his skin to further drill deep into his brain.

Cato's gun slips as he slowly tips on an angle, one hand shaking while the one behind him subconsciously looks for something to fall back on. And he does when the back of his calves bump against the large standing slab of stone that was mostly ignored during the faceoff. Gravity wants to drag him down but his lifeless body refuses to, bending all the way backwards from the waist, draping awkwardly over Heath Everdeen's tombstone.

Peeta tries to tune out Willow's new series of waterworks, pulling out an old handkerchief that Cato gave him once upon a time when they first met. He plucks the suppressor off the barrel and pockets it, wiping the gun generously with the handkerchief before he approaches Cato's dangling remains on top of the memorial of his old friend.

He leaves the gun by Cato's feet, now clean of his finger prints and picks up the gun he dropped, jamming it in his sock before he gathers Willow in his arms. She refuses to open her eyes and her hands are still covering her ears, burrowing her head in the crook of Peeta's neck.

With relief visible on his face, he hesitates before he pats Willow on the back as an attempt to calm her down, glancing at Cato one last time and reiterates with himself that he has now fully retired from this industry in flying colours and should be one hundred and one percent done with it.

* * *

_With your feet in the air and your head on the ground _  
_Try this trick and spin it. _  
_Your head will collapse and there's nothing in it and you ask yourself_  
_Where's my mind?_

_-The Pixies_


	20. Chapter 20: Majestic Amber

**A/N: Hello! This was another toughie mainly because my mind has been spewing out scenes and plot line for my next fanfic. It's going to be another crazy one, post MJ, but I still need a solid plot. Then it hit me like a bad fart: Why do I keep getting myself into this sort of stuff. All at the same time, I am hoping it hasn't been done before-this was exactly my sentiment before diving in to Epinephrine.**

**Anyhoo, it distracted me from envisioning this chapter :-|**

* * *

Sunlight gushes in through the slits between beige coloured curtains covering the windows, splashing vertical rays on the white walls. The only sound in the room is the soft ticking of the clock and the subtle beeping of the patient monitor screen.

It is serene, almost holy, and the floating dusts caught in the streams of light add to the magic of an early glorious morning. Too bad he has always hated hospitals. Hospitals gave him the creeps.

So he sits hunched on a rigid hospital chair, in a hospital room with a funny smell, seated by a hospital bed, looking sorry and slightly bothered and he can't believe he has lasted in there for half an hour and counting.

Peeta blinks, his long blond lashes almost transparent while he bathes under the direct sunshine through the windows, fixated on Gale's hand before his eyes trail up to his peaceful, nearly innocent-looking face. Peeta lets out a long drag of air.

"Hey bro..." he begins and pauses, unsure whether to keep the speech to himself or say it out loud and continue to risk looking like a drama queen. For a second he plays with the idea of holding his hand and then ditches it. "Thanks for all the times you looked out for me. I know you'd say you were just doing your job, but, after all is said and done; you treated me like a friend. You gave me advices. That was cool too. And because of you my right arm is going to be ok. You saved me, and I'll forever be in debt. Sorry if I was a constant pain in the ass, you know, I really was a big one too, and sorry for sniping at you when you called me Pumpkin, or Sweet Pea. I swear I won't get that mad anymore. Anyway, you've been a great buddy, and it'd be awesome if we could keep in touch, because I want to keep you as a friend after I get the shit out of here. Yup. Katniss, the munchkin and Peeta Junior are excited to go to California. See, I'm taking your advice again! So..."

He trails as he notices Gale's hand, the one he's been somewhat mesmerized with, twinge and stretch before his fingers curl in. He lets out a short gasp as his eyes widen in anticipation, watching Gale stir awake in his bed. He is alarmed when he sees Gale's head whip back and forth, and suddenly, his eyelids fly open and he's staring right back at Peeta.

Gale's lips arch into the brightest smile.

"Hi sweet pea!" he greets Peeta with enough enthusiasm. He is getting his voice back at this point. "Sweet Pea-ta."

Peeta looks like he's about to reach down and strangle Gale. "Okay, bro. First thing: I totally saw what you did there, and don't you ever say that again. Second thing: You were awake the whole time?!"

"I just wanted to say that you're welcome. That was..." Gale pauses as he moves to clutch at the fabric over his chest. "...very moving."

"Yeah, well, your nurse told me that I could talk or sing to you and you'll be able to hear me in some freakish way. Your brain waves are more active right now. And studies confirmed that the sense of hearing is the last thing to go when a person dies," Peeta blurts out, all ruffled and intrigued. "You could be clinically dead and you could still hear me!"

Gale is wincing up at Peeta but Peeta thinks he's in pain.

"Dude. I'm not in a coma, and neither am I dying, ok?" Gale sighs and plays with one of the tubes that is connected to his vein.

"And that makes me glad," Peeta says and finally gives him a warm smile.

They linger in a semi-awkward moment of complete silence with only the grin on their faces, turning their ears to a short, fuzzy announcement on the PA.

"So...Peeta Junior huh. You're having a boy?" Gale continues the conversation.

Peeta lets out a shy chuckle as his eyes shoot to the ground, and Gale is almost too sure he caught a weak shade of red run across Peeta's cheeks. "Actually we don't know yet. I don't think I'd want to know until the big day. I would very much like it to be a boy. I do have a strong feeling it's going to be a boy."

"Can't handle two girl drama in the household?"

"I don't know, I mean, one time Willow was telling me about her boy problem," Peeta says in slight dismay and falls into a stressed mood. "There's some boy she met in her daycare and she thinks he's cute or something. I really hope I'd have gotten rid of all my guns by the time she's a teenager."

"Peeta, you have to promise me you'll be nice to the future suitors."

"No worries. My newest resolution is to be nicer, in general," he declares, looking very much proud that he is almost patting himself in the back. "It's time for changes, time for a new life, a life free of murders and stuff like that, and maybe smoking."

"Good for you man! Those are very nice goals you've set for yourself," Gale gives him a half a nod of approval, cringing afterwards from the neck pain. He pauses and perks up as he remembers something. "Did you have a chance to take down Snow?"

Peeta's head dips in knee-jerk reaction before he responds.

"Sorry I failed you on that one," he says, voice as thin as paper. "I didn't kill the head honcho. I ain't no Don Vito Corleone. I don't have senior status." He takes this time to look somewhere far out the distance and beams. "I'm better than all that. I'm a dad."

"Hey congratulations, bro. You are now a family guy. And to quote Don Corleone himself: "A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.""

Peeta flashes him another smile as he emerges from his seat, leaning closer to Gale to give him props. They exchange their goodbyes, promises of communication and meeting each other again one day in Santa Monica. Peeta turns around and walks slowly to the door, and right before he turns the knob to open it, he swivels back around and has one more thing to add.

"I brought someone else who wants to say hi."

He pushes the door open, murmuring something towards the hallway and pulls himself back in the room. He steps back to make space as Willow peers in head first from behind the door, bashful and almost reluctant, looking up at Peeta before she moves one foot in. Peeta whispers a little bit of encouragement and she finally glides across the floor, tugging along a huge helium balloon with "Get Well Soon" printed in large pink font.

Gale realizes he's never smiled this much that his face is now aching with the rest of his body.

Willow goes from walking to hopping as she crosses the room to approach Gale who has started talking in gibberish. Both watch as she ties the ribbon around the metallic legs of the bed and looks curiously at Gale, asking him if he was sick or hurting and if he wants to borrow her stuffed toy she left in the waiting room outside.

Right before he clicks the door shut, Peeta catches Willow pause to glance back at him.

* * *

A clear blue sky is stretched across Santa Monica, underlined by a stretch of the turquoise water of the coastline.

Katniss clutches on to her purse, looking up awestruck at the apartment building Peeta has arranged for them to live in indefinitely. The Archstone apartments on Main Street showcases glamorous architectural design and lively colours, all status and luxury and it makes Katniss cringe and breathless at the same time. She gapes at it as Peeta brushes by her from behind, snickering mainly at the look on her face.

Willow loops her way around Katniss as well, shrieking at the group of butterflies attracted to the rose bushes lining up the front of the apartment.

"Peeta, I thought you said the apartment would be a bit ran down, and that we'd be in a rough neighbourhood for the meantime?"

He takes his time wrestling with his Samsonite, Katniss' extra large luggage and also Willow's and attempts to arrange them on a neat pile by his feet on the sidewalk.

"I realized being in a rough neighbourhood would be the last place I'd put myself in. Trust me, I've had one very bad experience," he cocks an eyebrow and cryptically refers to the time he was held up for robbery, which would prove to change the course of his life. He and Katniss keep a watchful eye over Willow who is now diving nose-first into the bush, intrigued by bugs.

"How much will we be paying rent for this..." her eyes flit upwards in search of a word. "...this outlandishly extravagant apartment...Peeta...it's..." she trails, reduced speechless and looks like she's about to keel over. She hasn't even seen the interior yet.

Peeta is genuinely worried. "Katniss, please don't faint on me again. It's roughly three, probably four grand per month. Only because it's a three-bedroom, one of the bigger units here," he says like it's not a big deal, hovering closer to Katniss' face to ensure she's still responsive. "You don't like it?"

"Four grand...I...uhh," she croaks. She means to say that she loves it and she's trying hard to prevent herself from squealing and jumping because she does not want to encourage Peeta and his lavish spending.

"It has a large walk-in closet honey, and this building has all the perks you could possibly imagine," he says as he resumes and begins to pick up the luggage one by one. "Listen, if you want, we won't be living here for that long, ok? And then we'll get out and purchase a house a bit after the baby is born."

Katniss suddenly feels the need to secure her share of control as to where this plan is going.

"I would like to take part in the purchase of the house. It's only fair," she says firmly.

"Of course! I've been eyeing a property on Ocean Drive and it's pretty nice. I know the owner and he said he'll be putting up the house for sale in a year."

Katniss' alarm is going off; nervous at what Peeta categorizes as 'pretty nice'. "Do you know what their asking price is?"

"That one...it's not that bad. It's barely scratching one million dollars," he answers nonchalant.

Katniss blinks and catches the mischievous glint in his eye before he turns and struggles to carry Willow's luggage besides the two other large luggage he is already hauling with both hands. He refuses help until he reaches the end of the path to the main door of the building and disappears into the lobby.

* * *

She hates being bored at home.

The glass windows give off endless sparkle and there is never a clutter in the sink. The dishwasher purrs too quietly, unlike the one she used to have in Corpus Christi where the island counter it was housed in would rattle whenever it was switched on. There is no dust to sweep off, and the living room is swimming in stems of roses, tulips and carnations that Peeta keeps bringing home for her. There are no clothes on top of tables or drawers, or accumulating in random corners. Willow and Peeta have been very good at putting away their dirty clothes into their own respective hampers.

He has landed a job as a financial analyst in a construction firm and has registered to continue studying to obtain his CPA license. The thought of being a corporate slave irks him and he would rather be his own boss in the long run. It would be more suitable since he wants to start painting again and ultimately open his second art studio, setting himself a five year window for the goal.

Willow is in Junior Kindergarten, ecstatic that she is now a 'big girl in a big girl school'. She used to plop on the ground and hug Katniss' legs and cry into the back of her calves when she was dropped off outside the school, and it took her days to warm up to the idea of having to attend a place that is not her daycare.

There was a debate on whether or not Katniss should be employed in the early months of her pregnancy. Peeta insisted that she does not have to work being two months in, but she does not do idle very well at home. She flagged a part time, temporary job in a mall for the duration of only four months working in Bath and Body Works, acting as a reminder of the reason why she quit her retail job when she was younger. She found herself awkward and unfriendly, and would rather crunch numbers within the quiet office walls than to deal with people.

Still, the thought working in sales seemed like a better idea than staring at sound-proof walls all day.

Katniss thinks it's ironic for Peeta to have a good sense on how money works and flows in its entire technicality, but he is reckless when it comes to his own money management. Katniss is trying to help curb the frivolousness of his spending habit that was inexistent way back in the relationship and reminds him to not take advantage of what he has, even if he was born into wealth.

It's lunch time and Peeta walks through the doors of her workplace, wrinkling his nose at the strong scents of various scented candles, lotions, and bath things he can't care enough to differentiate from the rest of the products. He wears a suit and a tie, and freshly polished dress shoes, bearing a big goofy lunch bag and a bigger smile on his face when he pops out behind a pyramid of three-wick scented candles on sale, surprising the crap out of Katniss.

"Oh my God, I definitely _love_ this scent," Peeta exclaims, over-exaggerated and blindly pointing at a candle. "This is so me!"

Katniss' eyes roll smoothly between him and the candle, reading the fine print with a straight face. "'Twilight Woods. Apricot nectar, mimosa petals and Tuscan cypress combine to create this hypnotic fragrance inspired by a romantic walk in enchanted woods'." She gasps quietly as she takes in a quick breath. "They're on sale right now, two for fifteen. Are you sure you're not…," she pauses to pick up another glass of scented candle, waving it in front of his face. "…'Villa Bergamot'?"

"What the hell is Bergamot?" he asks seriously, overwhelmed by the wave of different fragrances. He glances over his shoulder in half dismay before he lunges forward and sneezes into his sleeve. "Geez, Katniss. You can't get me to work in here; I'd be constantly transferring snot into people's faces and I'd constantly look disappointed."

Katniss chuckles and creases her eyebrows. "I don't know honey, you sounded pretty enthusiastic about Twilight Woods," she declares, lips curling up in simple glee. "My favourite is Verbena Waters."

Peeta darts looks around the store before he hunches down and steps in a little closer.

"I don't know what it is exactly, but it feels like I'm back in highschool," he almost giggles and swings the lunch bag on his side. "Wanna play hooky?"

Katniss doesn't answer but playfully plants a curled fist into his right arm.

"Ow! Bad arm! Bad arm!" Peeta kindly reminds her and pretends to wither in pain as he aims for the wrong spot and rubs his elbow instead. Katniss clamps her mouth shut with a hand and laughs into it.

"Oops…sorry honey!" she says muffled through her fingers.

Peeta lets Katniss settle down as he re-arranges his posture, smiling because she is smiling. She gazes at him as her hands find his tie and subconsciously begin to fix it.

He looks softly at her and lets out a snort. "I was joking. I'm not here to play hooky. I'm old, boring, and I brought lunch but I only have an hour of free time because I have to be back to work at precisely 12:55 because I have meetings lined up and coming out of the wazoo."

"Yeah. Twenty-nine years old…that's almost thirty. You're old and no fun anymore," Katniss says and wraps her arm around his. She waves to her co-worker before she drags Peeta out of the store. "Let's go you sexy old fart."

They walk past Victoria's Secret, Gymboree, a couple of retail stores that target young females, and finally the movie theatre that is conjoined with the east wing of the mall. They take the elevator down to reach the doors that lead to the front of the theatre outside, paved with white, solid concrete and adorned with a large round fountain in the middle. Trees that light up in blue at night line the pathway that winds down to the sidewalk, and there are enough concrete benches scattered in the vicinity.

Peeta chooses the one that gives a perfect view of the fountain and places the lunch bag down between him and Katniss. He pulls out different items from the bag one by one, showing a freshly baked loaf of cheese bread, ample slices of prosciutto, brie cheese, two of Willow's orange juice boxes, and fruits such as kiwi and Ataulfo mangos he cut up in the morning before he stepped out to work.

He beams as he skewers a piece of mango and kiwi through a fork and gingerly lifts it up to Katniss' lips. She accepts it; delighted, giddy and hungry, the cascading sounds of water from the fountain and the sun beating down over their heads making her feel afloat.

He quips that the growing baby should have lunch too so he hand-feeds her one more time before he swoops the fruit-laden fork into his mouth. He then starts to work on the loaf of cheese bread, cutting it in thick slices using a butter knife and garnishing it with brie cheese and prosciutto on top.

They eat happily in moments of discussion, bickering, laughter and silence. Katniss is impressed by his effort in eating healthy and avoiding to spend money in lavish restaurants at the same time, but more importantly, she is glad that he came by to see her in the middle of the day, even for a short while.

"See, you can live frugally too. Like a college kid on budget."

"Prosciutto is way too blasé. If I was a college kid on budget, I'd be stuffing my face with McDonald's fries or Taco Bell," Peeta pauses and sighs at the sky. "…Mmm. McDonald's fries or Taco Bell."

Katniss' eyes widen at a new plan. "Tell you what. Tomorrow, you can pick me up for lunch and we'll go to Taco Bell as per tradition."

"Really? It's a date," Peeta nods against a gentle push of the summer wind and finishes the last piece of kiwi, wiping his lips clean before he leans down on Katniss to give her a quick kiss.

* * *

Ten minutes before seven in the morning finds her sitting in the dining room, absent-mindedly watching Willow have her breakfast while watching early morning cartoon. There is sadness in her eyes as her hands trail down to her stomach, which is visibly bigger and so are her hips. She is dragged by a certain thought and a bad feeling she cannot put a finger to.

Her eyes fly to the hallway where Peeta is barreling through in haste.

"Good morning," she greets him. He doesn't even look at her but he does greet her back with a noise she couldn't decipher as he tries to jam his arm through his jacket. He mumbles when he realizes his car key is missing, so he ducks into the bathroom closest to the front door and huffs out loud when he spots it on the vanity.

"How did my key get in here?" he asks, pocketing the key then disappearing into the closet to grab his dress shoes.

"Willow must've played with them."

Peeta sighs in agitation as he slips in his second shoe and stands still facing the door, poised to leave for work. "Well, I don't have time for scavenger hunts," his voice bounces against the door inches away from him. "You know I'm always rushing in the morning."

"Maybe if you were less careless and a bit more mindful about things and not leave a trail behind you, she wouldn't get her hands on it."

Peeta's head creeps around slowly, leering at her from over his shoulder, wordless and is about to set off in an angry tirade but refrains from it. A part of her regrets saying it. Breaking into a fight first thing in the morning before heading out to work and in front of Willow is not an ideal way to start the day.

She suddenly feels helplessly stupid when she realizes she's on the verge of tears. She slightly shakes her head and pushes a lunch bag on the table towards Peeta's general direction. Willow is indifferent and is too absorbed by the colours springing out of the television.

"I made you lunch," Katniss offers timidly, almost whispering.

Peeta's eyes cast downwards as his hand reaches for the door knob.

"No thanks. My co-workers and I…we're going to check out this new restaurant by the beach."

He merely gets a sliver of Katniss' reaction before he turns back around to face the door, and as quick as he pushes it open, he's gone without giving her a kiss goodbye.

By late afternoon the same day she stands swaying, feeling alone in the middle of customer traffic in the store. People have stepped on her shoes, bumped into her from the back, crashed into her shoulders, but she stays glued to her spot, eyes and thoughts flung off into a far distance.

She counts down one more hour until she leaves to go home. She thinks she shouldn't be bothered by it, but Peeta has not communicated with her the whole day. Usually there's one short text message he sends in the morning, or he would leave a nonsensical voice message in her inbox when she misses his calls. The bad feeling lingers and it's actually been nesting there for days. And today was different, when she felt the hurt from a sharper angle. It's more solid, more daunting. She is confused, not knowing what triggered Peeta into acting distant and cold towards her. She digs old and recent conversations, events, anything that will shed some light on what could be wrong. The last time she was baffled over Peeta's drastic change in behaviour years ago, he ended up showing outside her door equipped to spit out his unforeseen farewell.

She sits in her car at precisely four o'clock, eagerly reading a text message she just received from him. She opens it and her face further contorts in disappointment.

"_Don't have time to pick up salad ingredients for tonight...I'll be late coming home. Can you grab them instead_?"

She spends time staring at the words on the screen longer than she should until they begin to gloss over and blur. She sobs into the steering wheel and her restless emotions, mostly driven by raging hormones, haven't rested from trying to drive her off the edge.

* * *

Tomatoes, cucumber, arugula, dried cranberries, pine nuts.

The ingredients of their favourite salad peek out of the grocery bag she's been cradling in her arms, toes curling in and out, her free hand refusing to open the door to their apartment. She can't quite assort her feelings, making it difficult to figure out how to approach Peeta to get him to talk in a leveled manner, because a part of her wants to tear down inside and another part wants to tear him apart. If there is anything that needs attention, she thinks it should be discussed tonight.

She closes her eyes and wonders, trying to fill in the blanks with baseless theories. Is he slowly falling out of love? Is it another woman? She stops when she realizes she is just making it harder for herself because she's poisoning her own mind. So she resumes staring at their front door, shrugging her thoughts away with renewed albeit weak positive thinking. She takes a deep breath and finally opens the door.

The lights are dimmed, and a blast of springtime and citrus scents infused with peach and sandalwood immediately pull her in, giggling to herself upon seeing rows of her favourite three-wick scented candles illuminating the whole apartment, placed in random surfaces among the litters of loose flower petals.

She smiles as she approaches one, leaning down but not close enough, enjoying the warmth from the flames. She stands upright and wants to continue observing, curiosity and confusion leading her further in to the media room. A bit of noise distracts her, coming from the massive TV on the wall. Realizing it's from Independence Day emits a louder giggle from her, the movie playing about ten minutes in.

A small bubble floats near her ear and pops, stealing her attention as she swivels around and chuckles. Before she is able to acknowledge Willow sitting on the couch happily blowing more bubbles in utter concentration, she is smothered by an army more, encircling her in a dance. Willow transfers all her effort and breath into blowing one big bubble and releases it, making Katniss let out a small yelp as she pretends to run after it in slow motion.

As she twists to do a playful loop around herself while the bubbles continue to envelop her, she hears the unmistakable riff of the guitar filling the air. Peeta dramatically enters the candle-lit room in smooth, unrushed steps, his silhouette poised by the entryway as he softly strums his guitar. Katniss could barely see bunched up fabric gathered around his neck, puzzled if and why he would wear a scarf at this moment. By the time Peeta steps closer to bask in the lights, as if on cue, Willow diligently blows her last batch of bubbles before she hops off the couch and makes a dash for her bedroom.

Katniss' eyebrows furrow when she is granted a somewhat closer look at Peeta. He starts shy, but gains confidence with each forward step he takes.

"_If you are chilly, here take my sweater_…" Peeta starts to sing and pauses, grabbing the blue sweater piled up over his shoulders with one hand and pulls it over his head. He then surprises Katniss when he overestimates his strength and chucks it hard across the room for her to catch. Katniss' expression is bordering blank with a repressed hint of shock. The corner of her lip twitches.

"_Your head is aching...I'll make it better_..."

She doesn't dare to move, giving his sweater a deathly grip with both hands. She is now distracted at how shirtless he is behind the guitar, the muscles on his arms flexing and deliciously highlighted by the weak yellow hue casted by the candles.

"_Because I love the way you call me honey. __And you take me the way I am.._."

Katniss hurriedly lifts a hand to cover her mouth as she begins to snicker, watching Peeta sport a slight blush on his cheeks and a crown of sweat from nervousness while continuing to approach her, singing and playing his heart out.

"_I'd_ _buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair. __Sew on patches to all you tear_…"

She laughs out loud as she holds on to the apparent bump of her stomach, and before awareness hits her, her eyes are brimming with sudden tears. They coyly switch focus from his face, down to the expanse of his bare chest, then back up but gets stuck on his Adam's apple, leaving her no choice but to swat away inappropriate thoughts.

Peeta stops a couple of feet before her and bends down on one knee, placing the curve of the guitar snug over his leg. He finishes the last line of the song while fighting to control the blend of emotions that are nailing him onto the floor.

"_Because I love you more than I could ever promise. __And you take me the way I am_."

He lifts the guitar strap over his head and carefully places his prized guitar down on the floor beside him, keeping his kneeling position intact. For a moment it looks like he is struggling to breathe as he angrily swipes at a single sweat that has decided to roll down the side of his face as if it was going against his planned sequence of events.

And then, just as he opens his mouth again to say her name, his voice decides it's the perfect time to split in half.

"Katniss-I uhh..." he croaks, feigning a cough so he could reset the beginning of his speech. Katniss' heart is racing and her hormones are once again bouncing off of each other that she feels tired and magnetized to a chair, desperate to barricade her tears. She smiles down on Peeta as he looks up at her longingly, still topless and is now reaching for her hand. He clears his throat again for good measure and continues.

"Katniss. You light up the dark that lives inside of me, you fix my scratches, you accept my damaged parts and make me feel brand new. I have never seen a more pure love than the kind you have given me, and I never thought I had the capability to feel this much for anyone. You let me have a second chance to continue what we had, and I am grateful. I love you...," he almost sighs, begging himself to have a nervous breakdown some other time. "...I love you more than I can bear..."

He bends to reach for the back pocket of his khaki pants and pulls out a blue jewelry box, opening it to reveal a vintage style, yellow gold multi-stone ring exhibiting a bulky centre diamond. She gasps at the ring, and internally laughs at how volatile her feelings are, thinking she was just glum and pissed off at the same time and now she's weightless in bliss that it almost terrifies her.

His eyes are intense, spiralling pools of impossible blue, blond hair neatly brushed back, jittery and losing most of his cool but geared with all the right things to say.

"Will you marry me?"


	21. Chapter 21: Deep Blue

They exchange vows on a quiet chunk of the coastline, a small and intimate wedding consisting of Katniss and Peeta's immediate families flying in from Kentucky and Texas. Madge arrived as well to stand as Katniss' maid of honour while Cinna wowed everybody in his Stuart Hughes suit as the best man, ever slightly outshining the groom's D'Orsi Kiton K-50.

Katniss is glowing and gorgeous in her Sweetheart beaded Empire beach wedding dress that emphasizes the growing curve of her stomach, hair in loose waves and adorned in tiny wildflowers flowing behind her shoulders. Peeta is smug and anxious at the same time, lovestruck that he is seeing heart bubbles trailing behind Katniss' head as her eyes twinkled when she said "I do".

The sands are fine and warm under their feet. The winds, crisp and sweet but strong rolling in from the sea, continue to ruffle their hair on this beautiful sun-drenched June morning. Katniss' eyes are shrinking from smiling too much and Peeta can't take his hands off of her belly.

By the end of the short ceremony, Willow has run off with Katniss' bouquet of flowers to see what happens when she tries to plant the stem in the sand. Katniss ducks out of the cooing crowd when she realizes Willow has stopped yanking her dress and spots her playing in a clearing behind a short wooden fence where the water breaks. Mrs. Mellark is there watching her, engrossed and amused, hunched low so she could observe Willow eye-to-eye. Willow plucks a twig out of the bouquet and jams in the sand.

She looks up and sees Katniss approach them who is wincing under magnificent sunshine and clinching to the fabric of her long white dress, hair flapping all over her face. Katniss halts from wading through the sand when she recognizes Peeta's mom trying to talk with Willow, thinking twice if she should bother to join them or just turn around and disappear back into the crowd.

Willow suddenly stands up and bolts off, suddenly interested in Madge, Maximilian and his wife standing off to the side by a group of low palm trees, deep in a conversation. Mrs. Mellark picks up what remains of the bouquet and proceeds to meet Katniss halfway. She shakes the sand out meticulously and hands the bunch of flowers to Katniss.

"It was such a beautiful wedding, Katniss. We're happy that we were able to be a part of it," Mrs. Mellark offers Katniss a genuine smile. "My son is crazy about you."

"Thank you Fina. Peeta was glad that you came," Katniss answers shyly, trying not to remember how badly she felt humiliated and insulted by her over lunch when she and Peeta visited their hometown a while ago. "We're both very glad."

Mrs. Mellark glances thoughtfully at the swirl in the sands that Willow has made and clears her throat.

"Katniss, darling. I know I hadn't been very pleasant towards you, nor Peeta. I've always found it easier to be spiteful than to be kind," she submits, then raises her head to look at Katniss in the eye. "...although I don't have any reason to be. I don't. I was terrible, and I'm sorry..." She trails as she struggles with words, patching together a much-needed apology that could potentially bridge both of them into better terms with each other.

And at that short, singular moment, Katniss sees Peeta's mother bend a little for the first time.

Katniss breaks into a bright smile, slowly softening up inside and reaches over, wordlessly grabbing her mother-in-law's hand and giving it a light squeeze. Mrs. Mellark gauges Katniss' reaction thoroughly before she moves forward and pulls her gently into a quick hug.

Peeta quietly watches the two of them interact from a distance, carrying Willow in his arms who is nursing a handful of sand and has started to shove them into his breast pocket. His father stands by his side, equally intrigued at the scene in front of them, grinning from ear to ear as a sign of approval and mostly relief.

* * *

Ryder Mellark, or Rye in short, is an impressive ball of energy at one year old, topped with straight blond hair and a prominent cleft chin he took from his father. He inherits a haunting set of gray eyes from his mother, wide and alert, and most remarkably, the way a dimple digs into his lower left cheek when he smiles.

It's two in the afternoon and Katniss is on her throne, the couch, reading a Home Design magazine while drinking her favourite oolong tea.

She sighs in contentment as she reaches the bottom of a page and as she flips it over, she couldn't help but get a glimpse of Peeta staring up at her from below, flashing her a wide grin. He is lying down along the length of the couch, head resting comfortably on top of her lap. Ryder is sitting on Peeta's stomach; his back supported by Peeta's bent legs, chubby little hands flailing and trying to grab a handful of Willow's hair. She is doing cartwheels on the floor trying to get a rise out of Rye.

The doorbell rings and it summons Peeta to stand up, gingerly handing the baby over to Katniss. He drags his feet across the floor and opens the door to his expected guests arriving on time, beaming at his old friends who are in the process of bickering amongst themselves but notably practicing restrained profanity.

Haymitch, Cinna and Marvel stream through the doorway holding beautifully wrapped presents, elbowing each other while they step into the apartment in awe. Impressed by the sophisticated vibe and clean feel of the room, they all give Peeta their signature props accompanied by light slaps on the back, and greet Katniss with quick kisses on the cheek.

Peeta has an amused look on his face as he clicks the door shut behind him, his hand flying up to his jaw and begins to rub his stubble.

"Look it's Gaspar, Melchior and Balthasar...Harry Larry and Moe," he shoots a pensive look up the ceiling and continues. "...the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion..."

"Alright Peeta, we get it," quips Cinna, glaring at him.

"...Get what?"

"Just so you know, Marvel is the Cowardly Lion," butts in Haymitch from behind everybody else.

Marvel eagerly sidles up next to Katniss who is carrying Rye, trying to entice the wide-eyed baby by waving the pastel blue box. "We have come bearing gifts!" he declares.

"'Wow! Thank you guys!'" Katniss squeaks exuberantly and takes Rye's hand to give them a little wave, translating his slew of gibberish while he blows bubbles with his mouth. "Rye says he loves them already!"

Some tears, a heated exchange between Willow and Rye, and a small mountain of torn wrapping paper later, the four men draped over the couches in the living room survive the glorious ceremony of opening the presents. They heave in mild exhaustion, springing up in delight upon seeing Katniss approach them with a tray of orange juice.

However, Haymitch looks on with dismay, expecting some type of booze.

Willow just about finishes pulling at Cinna's tie with enough insistency and wonder and much to his internal protests. As her target switches over to Marvel who looks remotely distressed, she gives a little yelp before she hops off Cinna's lap. Rye is sucking on his thumb and has fallen asleep on Peeta after Haymitch made him burst into a short series of tears everytime he "got" his little button nose.

"You know, this is too bad because this is my fifth most expensive tie," Cinna sighs as he brings the material closer to his nose for a detailed inspection.

Katniss places the tray down and keeps a smile concealed behind her dangling hair as she plucks the sleeping Rye out of Peeta's protective grasp. She abruptly whispers something to Peeta and leans down to steal a swift kiss before leaving the room.

Willow crinkles her nose and has managed to strategically place herself sitting on the wide arm of the couch beside Marvel who is nestled in the corner. "Smell my stinky socks!" she joyfully demands in a high-pitched voice, lifting her leg and sticking her foot up at Marvel.

"Umm. No thanks."

"Smell her stinky socks, uncle Marv," Peeta suggests calmly. Willow has a sheepish grin on her face as she starts to wiggle her toes.

Haymitch's face moulds into a deep realization as he leers sideways at Peeta.

"Boy. No offense or anything. I mean, they're cute little boogars, sweet as ever, but..." he pauses when he sees a spark in Willow's eye when she looks at him. "Your kids are incredibly annoying."

"...Yeah sometimes," Peeta beams as he chuckles, feeling accomplished and basking in the splendor of the family he has created and the bond with his friends he has managed to maintain.

* * *

Peeta comes home at about half an hour later than the time he usually touches down, grabbing at his tie as he tries to loosen it. He places his briefcase on top of a bookshelf and brightens up at Willow approaching him, taller and drastically mellowed at the age of six. She gives him an embrace as she peers up at him while Rye trails behind her, walking with confidence at three years old. He holds up a piece of paper with streaks of reds, oranges and lime green to his father.

He feels a kick of energy return to him as he bends over and accepts Rye's artwork, sweeping him into his arms and kissing his forehead before he leaves him on the floor near his Brok the Brachiosaurus Dinosaur toy. Willow nods at Rye as if she's keeping his behaviour in check and returns her focus to Peeta.

She gestures for him to give her the artwork and begins to analyze it in front of him.

"This is you, in your car, and you're driving home from work, and you're stuck in traffic," she begins, moving a finger along the length of the paper. "And then he said this is you finally getting home, and you're happy because you get to see me, Rye and mommy!"

"That's very nice, sweetheart," Peeta says as his heart melts. "Tell Rye this is going to be laminated and will be up on daddy's wall in the office."

Willow's eyes widen in excitement as she turns around and joins Rye on the floor. "Did you hear that? Your art will be malamani-nated in his office!," she exclaims, gasping and shaking her hands until Rye mirrors her exact reaction.

Peeta looks on fondly at the two and starts to take off his jacket.

"Honey I'm home," he says loudly.

Katniss chirps cheerfully, her voice distant and tiny. "I'm in the kitchen!"

As soon as Peeta steps in the room, his mood plunges and a ripple of dread creeps down his body. Katniss sits on one end of the long dining table, arms crossed and letting the steam from a mug of hot chocolate grace her face. And in the middle of the table rests an old familiar object of affection; the first revolver he has ever owned, laying bare on the surface without its casing.

The soles of his feet seem glued to the floor, not sure how to proceed; squinting at Katniss and trying to figure out what is currently running in her head. She flips a hand out and gestures for him to take a seat opposite of the table from her, puckering her lips at him but he looks at her like she has grown an extra head.

"I know you've given up most of your guns, honey, and it was great. But it seems you have missed this one. I found it tucked away in a box on the top shelf in one of the storage closets."

Within a hair strand of a moment, all that Peeta could hear is erratic heartbeat pumping out of his chest as he glares at the weapon inappropriately placed on the table. His anxiety builds in layers as seconds expire, feeling the urgency to pounce on it so he could hide it again forever.

Willow and Rye enter the kitchen as if on cue, bopping each other in the head with the elegant throw pillows from the couch.

"This shouldn't be here. There is still one bullet in that chamber," Peeta says as a matter of fact, bordering on angry because he expected much more from Katniss as his eyes dart between the gun and the kids. "It needs to be put away." He is tense, voice hollow and eyes unblinking.

"Exactly. I agree," Katniss responds in finality, implying that Peeta's last and only gun has no other option but to go. She is completely devoid of any emotions that it frightens him to an extent. "I need you to realize that a loaded gun being hidden up in a shelf is as dangerous as the gun being out in the open on the dining table like this."

He studies her straight face in depth, and noticing for the first time a little cringe in her eye, indicating how extremely uneasy she feels at the exposed weapon.

"We'll have dinner, and then I'll go and figure out how to get rid of it for good."

Katniss lets out a breath she isn't aware she's been holding and is finally able to crack a smile.

* * *

He drives out of Santa Monica and launches onto San Diego Freeway, making a last minute decision to conduct a short visit to the ports of Marina Del Rey. Later on he cruises along Vista Del Mar and turns into Grand Ave, leaving his car on a side street and finishes his slushie while contemplating in the sands, watching the sliver of orange sun fizzle and die for the day. It is almost eight o'clock and the sky is delicately bright, giving off dull light before the remnants of the sun wither beyond the horizon. He makes his way into El Segundo, wandering aimlessly, ducking in and out of streets he is not familiar with. He picks a bench near a bus shelter to slouch in and sighs, subtly patting his pocket where his revolver is concealed.

"_It's been a good run, old buddy old pal_," he mumbles quietly, followed by his eyebrows creasing at how ridiculous he suddenly feels. He shakes his head and laughs at himself as he stands up after spending minutes watching people and cars run up and down the road. He eyes a plaza two blocks across the street and disappears into a store to kill more time.

A grueling half an hour later he emerges looking accomplished, his right arm carrying groceries such as a few produce and baked goods like baguette sticking out of the paper bag. He saunters towards his car parked on the street under an array of street lights and fishes a set of keys from his pocket.

As he passes by a bar about one block from his car, he almost slams into a throng of delightfully intoxicated men spilling out through the door. They hoot and holler amongst themselves, and some have broken away from the group brought on forward by a sudden interest in Peeta.

He grips the grocery bag with both arms like a lost child, peering at the men from behind the roll of baguette with vigilant eyes.

"Hey bread boy, what you got there?" one of the men asks him. He begins to reach for the baguette, making Peeta revert defensively. He looks at the crowd rabidly, realizing he is outnumbered and once again shit out of luck.

"Hold on there, if I'm not mistaken you just called me 'bread boy'..."

"Dude! This bread boy looks familiar…" a man wearing a cap says, materializing from a moving wall of drunken men to take a closer look at Peeta. At the instance of recognition, he almost shows panic and subconsciously moves to the side. "…Oh hell. It's Mellark."

Peeta internally curses at an incoming barrage of new mishap, face falling flat in dismay as the unfamiliar crowd clamours around him.

_Oh. Shit_…

"The legendary Peeta Mellark. Heard you were busy making rounds around Texas?" says a voice coming from the side.

"Get the hell out of my way," he warns everybody and then reminds himself to sound friendly. "Look I don't want trouble; I just need to get through…here..." He makes an attempt to avert the situation and squeezes between a six footer and the brick wall, unsuccessfully. He feels a hand clawing at his shoulder and he swears at that moment, all his patience has fled and his old trigger-happy self is resurfacing.

"Someone single-handedly took down Thorpe's empire. Gang activities in Texas have ceased, and the Feds are having a field day with all these mob heads and key mob players falling like dead flies. But they don't know who has led the operation kill on these people," a tall man who appears to be the most sober glares at him. "Rumour has it that it was a rebellious killer working underground by himself, a dangerous one. It was you."

_Rebellious_? _Underground?,_ Peeta snorts in disbelief. "I don't know, beats me." He shrugs, still hugging the grocery bag tightly to his chest. "I would love to get all the credit but…it wasn't me, bro."

As a response to Peeta's denial, everyone in the crowd except the sober man start to advance in on him, glorifying at how harmless he looks. He takes a deep breath as he reverts back, realizing that he is slowly being pushed into a dark alleyway. For a split second that seems to last too long, he entertains the thought of pulling out his gun just for the purpose of showing it off. He makes a promise to himself that he will not discharge the last, lone bullet tonight.

He almost cowers behind his grocery bag until praises of acknowledgement flow in from the back, some men stepping away to permit space for the person trying to walk into the middle of the circle. The crowd falls silent as each of them slither one by one into the shadows behind an old, gray-haired man. He is donned in simple clothes, but his vibe and stature scream power and sophistication.

Peeta looks like he got hit with a brick in the face when he recognizes the person parting the crowd in half while being hailed, and finds himself propelled into a new set of internal thoughts.

_Oh shit. It's Snow_.

_I killed his golden boy. I know he wants to kill me._

_He is going to kill me._

_But not if I kill him first._

_No! I have retired from this. I am a good boy._

_I hate alleyways._

Snow slows to a stop at about an arm's length from Peeta, his breath a remarkable mix of wine and alcohol. "Mr. Mellark. I am Coriolanus Snow. Fancy seeing you here."

"Yes, delightful. Look I would love to stop and chat but I seriously have to go. There is a tub of ice cream in this bag that needs to go inside a freezer."

"I don't think so, Mr. Mellark. Please," Snow pauses, reaching into his pocket and pulls out a gun. He proceeds to point it at Peeta. "…Come walk with me." He turns slightly to one of his posse and lowers his voice. "We're going to the _other_ car."

The men around them spread out like brainwashed cowards, continually hiding in the dark pockets of the night. Peeta does not have much time to react but he is able to yank the revolver out of his pocket rather awkwardly with his right hand before he gets forcefully shoved over by someone from behind.

"The _other_ car?" he mumbles as he asks no one in particular, summoning about five guns to point back at him at the exact moment he lifts his at Snow. His left arm embracing the grocery bag is trembling more than he wanted to show.

"Move it Mellark!"

He stomps through the poorly-lit alleyway, slightly ahead of Snow, compliant but keeps his revolver poised to mirror Snow's weapon aiming back at him. He casts a sideway glare at the old man while keeping an extra eye on anything sneaking around behind him.

Minutes drag and the battle of resilience and schematics roll on as they both try to come to a conclusion as to who will outlast the other. Peeta finds himself in the backseat of a parked Lincoln having a stare down with Snow who is sitting mere inches away from him. Peeta huffs, impatient as he feels his hand that is still gripping the gun starting to cramp. He shifts in his seat, also shifting the grocery bag on his lap. Snow starts to chuckle and Peeta has a disturbed look on his face.

"Mr. Mellark. This is an offer you can't refuse. Work for me, and you will have control over half of my empire across the United States."

"An instant fifty percent of ownership? Didn't Thorpe tell you I was a bad employee?" Peeta says in a bored monotone. "I take phone calls during kill ops, I talk smack about my boss, and I also shit on orders."

"You have an impressive resume. Imagine that; an underground crime lord like Cato Thorpe sitting at number one on your hit list."

"I didn't have a hit list, nor was it work-related," Peeta says, wrestling with the roll of baguette brushing against his chin. "Besides, I wouldn't call him a crime lord because I was doing all the crime for him."

The atmosphere in car is solid and intense that the sudden ringing from Peeta's cell phone startle both men. Peeta signals for Snow to keep quiet with a sway of his gun before he balances the grocery bag on his leg and reaches for the phone in his pocket.

Katniss' voice booms on the other line as soon as he answers it.

"Hi! It's getting late. Are you alright?"

"I'm okay, honey." He feels an overwhelming desire to cold-cock Snow but ends up blinking rapidly instead.

There is a newly-formed cloud of doubt that hangs over Katniss as she notices something off about Peeta's tone.

"Where are you?"

"You're not going to believe this but I am in El Segundo," Peeta answers breathlessly and straight-faced, waggling his eyebrows at Snow.

Katniss lets out a quick sigh as her hand flies to her forehead. "Peeta, what are you doing in El Segundo?"

Peeta looks down at his grocery bag, cringing at himself. "…Grocery shopping." He winces at Snow and Snow flashes him a smile while cocking the gun in the same process.

Katniss shakes her head in response, pursing her lips together in mild disappointment. "Peeta, you told me you're not going to lie anymore about…monkey business. And that you would inform me of any. I'm more open about it now."

He suddenly hears raucous laughter in the background mainly led by Willow at the mention of the word 'monkey'.

"Honey, there is pistachio ice cream that is melting in this grocery bag and a monkey, specifically the main baboon, that is out of its cage. Bumped into it by accident. You have no idea how stressed I am right now," Peeta says firmly in an attempt to talk in codes, silently pleading Katniss to understand. He could hear her take deep, calm breaths in between his words. "But I will be coming home soon."

They hang up the phone at the same time and Peeta thinks of damage control, planning to resume his nonsense conversation with Snow and veer him away from the subject of his family. He turns his head towards the front seat of the car and grimaces at the dead driver who has been spouting blood from a gunshot wound to the head from an earlier incident, courtesy of Snow's unannounced attack from behind. The scene that transpired minutes ago right after they hopped inside the car keeps replaying in Peeta's mind. In the midst of exchanged words, out of nowhere, Snow moved the gun he has been pointing at Peeta away and towards the unsuspecting man in the driver's seat, ultimately shooting him through the ear.

Peeta was almost deaf from the blast of the bullet as the driver's head lulled to the side, eyes wide open and face half covered in his own blood. It is the source of Peeta's unease the whole time, and he's fighting hard to look unaffected. Peeta uses the back of his hand to wipe at a random speck of blood on his cheek that flung off from the driver's seat as he refocuses.

"Was that your lovely wife, Peeta? And how is your son Ryder?" Snow indirectly taunts him with the information he knows.

"Like hell I would want to work for you, Snow. You'll be taking me out to dinner but I'll end up like this guy by the end of the night," he says, gesturing towards the dead driver. "Head blown to smithereens." Right before he swings his head back to Snow, something alarming catches his attention; a device attached underneath the dashboard of the car. It is small, black, and peppered with red numbers flashing and descending in sequence. The countdown on the small screen shortens to five minutes. A breath hitches in his throat.

Snow looks irritated as Peeta ignores his questions."This man's brains were blown because he was a rat, Mr. Mellark. He was an informant to the Feds who was trying to gather evidence against me. He was disloyal and a liability to the family."

Peeta is internally in hysterics from an urgent need to jump out of the car before the timer reaches zero, horrified that he is being setup to explode inside with the dead driver. His left hand detaches from the grocery bag and flies to his back in search for the door handle he is pressed against, desperate to grab hold. His right hand is still aiming the gun at Snow.

He feels his mind separate from his body as he pulls the trigger of his revolver.

The gun clicks quietly. No bullet is discharged. Snow's shoulders heave as he snickers.

"You're trying to scare me with an unloaded gun. Work for me, or I will have your wife and children murdered from afar, the way Mr. Everdeen's life ended while having a lovely meal on a patio with his daughter."

Peeta swallows a lump in his throat as his fingers wrestle with the door knob behind him, and yelps in relief when he feels it swing open. His right hand subconsciously pulls the trigger again, shooting another blank as he falls backwards and out of the car, legs not in synchrony with each other. He curses as he tries to keep the content of the grocery bag intact, leaving the car door wide open.

He springs upright and continues to point the gun at Snow who is now emerging from his seat as well, calmly stepping out and walking around his side of the car to approach and close in on Peeta. Peeta takes one step back, still facing the car and Snow.

"There is no escape, Mr. Mellark. I have men dispersed at the end of this alleyway," Snow reminds him, lifting up a hand to show Peeta a small clicker. "…And I have the means of stopping the bomb in the car you may have already spotted." Snow tightens the grip around his gun and flashes a smile.

"So what?! The guy's already dead!" Peeta slightly freaks out.

"You are a smart man. Just say yes to the promotion."

Snow stops walking and has now positioned himself between Peeta and the car. He remains mild-mannered and lifts his free arm to rest it on top of the open car door. He nearly leans on it as well.

"You're not making it very enticing to work for you, Cory," Peeta says as a matter of fact. He's getting tired of protecting the bag and holds it at his side against his waist.

Snow's smile has disappeared and is now replaced with a scowl. He is not used to waiting for anything. "You're being very difficult. I don't have all night."

Peeta automatically curls inwards as he sees a spark fly off from inside the barrel of Snow's gun and finds himself gasping for air, glancing down at himself to see if he is bleeding anywhere. His face screws angrily at a realization when he notices the bread in his grocery bag.

"You just shot at my baguette!," he complains. His gun gives a little wiggle before his finger hugs the trigger down but he almost sobs from the lack of ammunition.

_I am going to die in a stinking alleyway. Where it all should have ended in the first place._

_I have come around three sixty. A full circle. How tragic and ironic._

_After all my shitty luck, this mob business will finally be the end of me._

_But I have groceries to bring home._

_And I have my wife waiting for me. And my two annoying but loveable kids. _

Peeta blinks his simple thoughts away as he watches Snow lower his gun and unleash another bullet, but this time at the ground, precisely near his foot.

He screams in panic as he jumps back, inserting a quick prayer in between and the smell of burnt bread and gun powder tickling his nose. His feet pick the wrong time to feel heavy.

Snow's mood swings back up, feeling entertained at Peeta's expense. He shoves the clicker into his pocket so he could use his hand to grab the open car door while he shrivels in tears and laughter.

"Dance, monkey!" he spits out, mentally screwing Peeta's mind as he finds sick amusement from lackadaisically firing his gun at him.

"Enough! I will work for you," Peeta finally breaks down and lifts his right arm in surrender. "Please, leave my family out of this."

Snow's lips stretch into a bigger smile. "Excellent decision. I knew you'd come to your senses." He now retreats his weapon into his other pocket. "Now give me your gun."

"Why? It's empty," Peeta says, refusing to hand it over.

"Liar. Revolvers are tricky. You've been trying to find that one bullet in there."

"I suppose you know where it is."

Snow takes a step towards Peeta, snatching the revolver off his grasp. He surprises him by moving swiftly and in a blink of an eye, Peeta squirms from the metal of his own gun pushed against his forehead. It all happens too quickly that Peeta is unable to do anything but squeeze his eyes shut and hug the grocery bag tighter.

Trigger clicks. Empty shot.

Snow looks disappointed as he chucks the revolver back at Peeta. Peeta remains idle, too traumatized to move.

"You're right. That piece of shit has nothing in it," Snow mutters. "Anyway, I will now call the other driver of my other car and take you to my office. We have a flight to catch tomorrow." He tries to search for the bomb clicker in his pocket. "How do you like Florida?"

"No."

Snow looks grim and glares at Peeta. "You will be stationed there."

"I meant, I will drive. I can start working as a driver. I just..." Peeta pauses and glances at the dead man inside the car. "...have to remove the body out of your Lincoln." He nods, as if trying to agree with himself. "You don't want blood stains in there."

Snow contemplates the vehicle behind him and runs a finger along the top of the car door that has been left open the whole time.

"Who cares, I have one too many! This was my Monday car," he says casually.

Snow begins to snicker, feeling good about himself and his horrid, future plans for Peeta. Peeta's eyebrows furrow as he is suddenly fascinated by Snow's wrinkly skin as he tips his head back, neck muscle stretching and his pointy Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Peeta's eyes shrink in pent-up rage and feels his right arm that is holding the gun lift and point with determination.

He takes a long drag of air through his nostrils as he pulls the trigger, watching a burst of white and yellow explosion dislodge from the barrel of his revolver. A bullet launches across the small space between them and pierces accurately through the middle of Snow's neck, catching him with his mouth open and in the middle of laughter.

Before Snow could topple over and hit the ground, Peeta skittles forward and raises his leg, kicking Snow's flailing body down through the car door and into the backseat of the Lincoln. Peeta throws the spent revolver on top of Snow and slams the door in haste, almost twisting his legs as he turns around and makes a mad dash away from the car.

He gasps as he runs, and it doesn't take long until he gets thrust forward from the force of explosion behind him. The bomb in the car has gone off, swallowing the remains of both Snow and the driver. He is shoved into the ground as he struggles to breathe, helplessly eyeing down the contents of his grocery bag as they roll away from him. He curses as he finds his balance, picking up the baguette, ice cream tub, and lemons in irritation so he could place them back in the bag and then throw it in the garbage.

He strides out of the alleyway looking for a garbage bin but is stopped by Snow's men congregating around him.

"You just took down Snow," the tall, sober man is the first to talk.

Peeta insists on walking through the buzzing crowd. "That's great."

Everyone tries to keep up with him, nearly bowing down to his steps.

"What do we do now boss?" someone from behind asks him. The distant light from the car fire crackles and casts eerie glow on their faces.

Peeta finally skids to a stop and looks like he is about to set on a rampage. "Did someone just call me boss?," he growls angrily.

But his anger is being ignored. "I will step up to the cops and take the blame. I volunteer," another man suggests nonchalantly.

Peeta's head whizzes to the man wearing a cap and scoffs. "Will you be feeding me grapes too?"

"The car bomb, the dead bodies...we'll orchestrate everything. You will remain clean, sir."

A light bulb sparks in Peeta's head and he clears his throat. "Very good. Let's set up this arrangement too: I don't know you, you don't know me. I don't exist. You-" he nods at the tall man leading the pack. "...you oversee the operations and move it to Florida. There's nothing here in El Segundo. The west coast has already been taken," Peeta tries to enunciate the lies loud and confident. "Top boss' orders, effective immediately. If these instructions fail, you will get a surprise at your doorsteps at home."

He laughs deep inside at his empty threat.

"Yes, sir."

There is real, powerful dread that cloaks the crowd in silence. They watch after him in admiration, respect, and a hint of confusion as Peeta coolly resumes his walk and approaches the end of the alleyway. He turns on angle to glance at them over his shoulder.

"Carry on."

Peeta disappears into a street where police cars are screeching through, headed for the main road where the alleyway begins as he clutches the battered bag with a crooked smirk on his face. He has to make another quick stop at a grocery store and it will be a half hour drive back to Santa Monica.

* * *

**_The End_**

**_Thank you for reading! :)_**


End file.
